Page 83 of Bloom

Standing in the parking lot outside the flower market, the hem of my dress clenched between my fingers in a death grip with my other hand splayed across my stomach as some sort of self-comfort, I really think I'm going to be sick.

For the first time ever, the sight of colorful tents does absolutely nothing to soothe me. It does the opposite, actually, because the closer I get, the more imminent what I'm about to do becomes.

I had a string of nightmares last night. A recurring loop of reliving the events of the days previous in vivid, slightly distorted detail. My dad loomed over me. Bigger than he really is, but just as angry as he really was. Yelling and swearing and swiping at me. Then, it switched to my friends from high school laughing at me mockingly, their shrill, thinly-veiled insults ringing in my ears. At one point, Hunter joined the party, along with Lux and Jackson and the rest of the town’s population, faceless forms reveling in my tear-stained face.

I woke up in a cold sweat, the same nausea that plagues me now swirling in my stomach. As I lay there trying to catch my breath, waiting for the nightmare to fade, I was struck with the most overwhelming need for…something. Something different. Something new. Something to break this endless, miserable cycle.

Something determined and quite possibly slightly deranged that’s led to me hovering outside the flower market with what might be my worst idea yet.

Inhaling deeply and letting the floral scent in the air drown out the acrid taste of the bile burning the back of my throat, Iforce one foot in front of the other. Slowly but surely, I close the distance between me and the Italians I know are both here today because I asked if they would be.

“Come on, Line,” I murmur as I weave my way through the crowd. “You can do it.”

I have to do it. Before my nerve dies, I have to do this.

I catch one glimpse of a familiar, charming man with a thick accent that booms across the market, and I balk.

Crap.

I can't do this.

There is no way I can do this.

But a bellowing voice stops me from backing out.

“Lina!” That damn friend of mine hollers loudly, summoning me over with an emphatic wave and mischievous grin.

Damn it.

Adopting a smile that’s almost as rigid as my shoulders, I slope his way, making a conscious effort not to let my eyes stray towards the man at his side. “Good morning.”

Aldo eyes the mottled purple I know paints my undereyes—a result of several nights of lackluster sleep. “You're late today.”

“I had some errands to run.” Like pacing around my apartment, hyping myself up in the mirror, and desperately wishing a sudden bout of illness would give me an inarguable reason to skip out of this ridiculous stab at independence.

Aldo hums his disbelief, one dark brow arching higher than the other. “You remember Roberto, yes?”

I finally drag my gaze towards the illustrious cousin, my heart rate amping up a notch as my palms begin to sweat.

God, he's handsome. Hard-to-look-at kind of handsome. All perfectly groomed and exquisitely chiseled, tall and slender with a certain grace about him. Not at all rugged or hulking or slightly disheveled. I could never imagine Roberto traipsing around aranch with straw in his hair, dirt on his jeans, a sweat-soaked t-shirt, and being happier for it.

Feeling disappointed is ridiculous, but here I am anyway.

“Hi,” I croak out, offering a dorky wave.

Dark eyes glitter as Roberto waves right back. While I shift on my feet awkwardly, he rounds the booth to stand in front of me, dipping from his tall height to kiss both of my cheeks.

“It's very nice to see you again, Caroline.” If the lips brushing my skin didn’t succeed in thoroughly flustering me, the sound of my name rolling off his tongue finishes the job. “I was hoping I would.”

Clearing my throat, I rub the fabric of my dress between my fingers. “Really?”

Roberto cocks his head, his smile slipping slightly. “I wanted to apologize for what happened the last time we met.”

I copy his frown.

“It seemed I upset your boyfriend,” he means to clarify, but only leaves me more confused. “That wasn't my intention. Aldo implied you were single and I—”

I cut him off, still frowning, “I am single.”

---