Page 2 of Wallflower in Bloom

“Abbbarennly,” Rose said through a stuffy nose, “I am allergic to cats.” A red nose and watery eyes ruined Rose’s usually perfect complexion.

Sweat dripped down Violet’s forehead, and she wiped her hand across her face. “I have...so many follow-up questions.”

Another bead of sweat fell down her neck, and Violet rubbed it away with a glove. Pennsylvania humidity could suck a prickly pear cactus.

“Stop touching your face wit dose dirt-cobered monstrosidies!” Rose’s voice sounded nervous, even through her stuffed-up nose.

“It’s my house. I can touch my face if I want to.”

Rose sniffed. “You hab dirt all ober you, Biolet.” She arched her body to avoid brushing her white shift dress against the blooming daylilies and their pollen-covered stamens and finally arrived at the greenhouse door.

Violet wiggled her gloves in her sister’s face, but Rose batted them away with a look of concern. “We habe”—she vigorously rubbed her nose—“more pressing madders right now.”

She turned away from Violet and let out an even higher-pitched “EECHEW.”

Violet handed Rose a roll of paper towels covered in gardening dirt and dust with an empathetic pout. She hated seeing people suffer, especially her older sister who always protected her. “I can run to the store and get you allergy meds.”

Rose took a towel like it was radioactive and daintily blew her nose. “Fucking hell, that’s better. Thank you.” Rose tossed her hair back. “If you’d answer your phone”—Rose glared at her—“I could have stopped to get medicine. But I rushed over here as soon as I could. Gray’s friend arrived early, and he brought his cat.”

Rose rolled her lips together and shoved at her hair, looking anxiously over her shoulder.

Violet shrugged. “He needs a place to stay?”

“That’s not the biggest problem. He’s, um…” Rose yanked off Violet’s hat and started pulling her gloves off.

Violet jerked her gloved hands back. “What are you doing, weirdo? I’m not done in the greenhouse yet.”

Rose licked her thumb and reached for Violet’s cheek to clean off dirt. “Violet, he’s—”

“Oh my god, why are you cleaning me like a mother cat?”

She started thwacking dirt off of Violet’s shorts. “Gray’s friend is—”

A rich, English-accented baritone voice cut through the birdsong outside. “Hope I’m not intruding.”

Violet would know that voice anywhere.

Her eyes widened in panic as she gripped Rose’s arms. “Am I having a stroke right now?”

Rose grimaced and wiped dirt off Violet’s face. “Sorry. I tried calling you a million times.”

Violet slowly turned around.

In front of her was none other than Jack Grant, the star of her favorite series, Beyond the Manor Walls.

Lord Eagleton himself.

Don’t faint. Don’t faint.

Don’t barf.

Don’t faint or barf.

“Hi, I’m Jack.”

His lilting English accent had Violet’s stomach swooping like she was on a rollercoaster. Her mouth slacked open.

Seeing somebody in your real life who had been in your fantasy life for so long was baffling.

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