Page 10 of Wallflower in Bloom

“Of course.” She pulled out a teapot and a passable brand of loose-leaf decaf English breakfast tea. His heart melted at not having to suffer through another moldy Lipton’s tea bag from an American.

“So, Violet Parker, how do you fill your days?” As a formerly out-of-work actor, he was mindful not to equate someone’s worth with their job.

“I’m pretty boring. Though I am a big fan of plants.”

Every possible surface had a plant on it within eyesight. Vines of leafy, verdant plants climbed from each shelf and bookcase to the next.

“Never would have guessed it,” he teased, and her cheeks turned a cute shade of pink.

She walked over to the largest plant and picked up a cloth to dust the leaves. “They’re my babies. I’ve had these for so long I could never sell them. This pothos has been with me since I moved in, and it’s grown and grown as I’ve grown, and now I consider it my best friend, even talking to it sometimes and—oh my god. I’m so sorry. That sounds so weird.” She shook her head, embarrassed.

He wanted to soothe every part of her that felt bad for loving something so much.

She took a bottle and spritzed leaves as she spoke, talking faster and more animatedly. “But, you know, plants benefit when you talk to them, and so it’s like free therapy for me and better, and richer carbon dioxide for them to grow healthy leaves and turn it into fresh air inside the cottage. A pothos removes indoor air pollutants like carbon monoxide and formaldehyde, even. A NASA study confirmed that. That’s why I think everyone should own houseplants. They make you better. If you aren’t caring for them, maybe you’re not taking care of yourse—”

She caught herself and looked at him nervously, gauging his reaction after her accidental monologue.

Oof. It was going to be hard to keep his hands to himself.

He adored nerdy women.

He adored most women, but nerdy, shy women who came alive when they talked about their thing? The thing sparking their happiness, making their eyes dance with possibility?

He was a goner.

His face turned curious, still thinking about her NASA comment. “It cleans the air when you talk to it?”

A smile bloomed on her face as if he’d given her the most precious gift. “Thanks for not thinking I’m weird.” She pushed her glasses up her nose as she checked the tea kettle.

“So you like plants and hosting weary travelers.”

“One of which I’ve watched on my TV for four years,” she said over her shoulder, with a scrunched-nose grimace that screamed ‘sorry’ without saying it.

He laughed to himself. She was slowly turning from cute as a button into fucking adorable. As she loosened up, she transformed from a panicked deer into a voluptuous milk maiden who might star in his late-night fantasies.

His phone buzzed on the table. More yelling texts from Shay. “Damn.”

“Anything wrong?”

“No, it’s…you know. After the thing.” He ran a hand down his face. This fucking thing was never going to stop haunting him. “My agent hasn’t stopped hounding me, my mother hasn’t stopped hounding me, and mostly I want them all just to go away.”

He looked at the biscuit that was the size of his face. It sat uneaten in front of him.

This was a summer luxury, and he wanted to savor it. Those bloody breeches were practically painted on, and he worked hard to stay fit for them. That costume ruined every meal and invaded his consciousness for eight months of his life every year. Sometimes, he felt like no more than a piece of meat who recited lines.

Summer luxuries kept him going from season to season, like this picture-perfect biscuit in this picture-perfect kitchen with a ripe peach of a woman fixing tea as her hips swayed back and forth, dancing to a beat of her own making.

He wished she’d stop swishing her hips. He was supposed to be on his best behavior.

He bit into the biscuit to distract himself.

A sweet, salty, buttery explosion of love filled his senses and radiated throughout his body.

He closed his eyes, savoring the soul-shattering goodness. He moaned and didn’t even feel bad about it. “Oh my lord.”

“What? Bad?” Violet turned around, worried.

“Fucking delicious.” He’d marry this cookie. This cookie was his soulmate, with the right buttery sweetness and hint of salt cut through to balance it. It melted in his mouth, and warm, gooey happiness radiated from his chest. He felt actual tears spring to the corners of his eyes.

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