Page 81 of When Wildflowers Bloom

“I guess this means you aren’t adopting Huck, then, huh?” he finally asks.

My chin pulls back. “Wha—”

“You can’t, right? I mean, if I’ve wrecked your routine too much, then a kid will annihilate it.” He looks at me, eyes wide. “Makes sense though. I get it.”

“Bo, I—”

“And,” he starts, pausing to rub his knuckles under his chin, “I guess this means I won’t be seeing you Sundays anymore.”

No more church?

“No, I di—”

“Lucy will be disappointed—I think she liked you—but they say kids are resilient, so I guess she’ll understand.” He gives a knowing nod.

Tooknowing.

I glare at him—he’s playing me. “What are you trying to do?” I demand.

“Me?” He laughs in disbelief. “What the fuck areyoutrying to do, Birdie?” he asks, voice elevated. “You give me some bullshit spiel about not wanting this, and your lie is written all over your face.” He holds his hands out to his side as my nostrils flare.

A woman walks by with wide eyes that I glare at, a casualty of my insanity.

I yank the handle of my cart and start stomping away from him. I’m not doing this.

With him.

I don’t need it.

Or him.

“Really, you’re just going to walk away?” he asks, following me, making my blood come to a roaring boil in my veins.

Like a delusional fool, I scoff but don’t respond, squeaky wheel mocking me as I try to outrun him.

“You know this is insane, right, Birdie?” he presses as I start throwing random items in my cart just to give my hands something to do. Bagels?Sure.Cookies?Why the hell not?“You’re shutting me out for no reason, like I don’t mean anything to you—like you don’t mean anything to me! I already told you, I don’t care about th—”

“Goddammit, Bo!” I stop the cart in the middle of an aisle and look at him, voice borderline shouting. “I’m in love with you.”

It’s not the whole truth, but it’s just as true. I love Bo and it’s as wretched as it is wonderful.

His reaction comes in the form of a step, quick hand around the back of my neck, and pull to impact. Bo crushes his mouth to mine and kisses me.

When we stop, it’s only because a familiar voice yells, “Oooh-weee! Someone call the fire department ’cuz there’s smoke comin’ from aisle four.” It’s Monica, and I can hear the smile on her face.

We laugh into each other’s mouths as we pull away. At the end of the aisle, Monica stands behind her register, fanning her face with her hand, toothpaste-commercial-worthy grin on her face. “Y’all get a room!” She cackles before a customer starts unloading groceries in front of her.

“Just so I understand this,” Bo says, turning back to me, tucking a rogue hair behind my ear. “You realize you love me, and your reaction is to avoid me and then end it in a grocery store?”

Somehow, despite everything I’m not telling him, I laugh.

“I guess, yes, that sums it up. Why?” I ask, moving from the aisle toward the freezers that line the back of the store. “What would you do differently if you were in love with someone?”

“If I was in love with someone, I would keep texting and calling and showing up at grocery stores when they get skittish, obviously,” he says, leaning on the handle of the cart.

I still—the bag of frozen berries I’m holding dangles midair as I look at him.

He whistles smugly, like he knows what he’s said but wants to hear me acknowledge it. “So when you love someone, you stalk them?” I ask, slowly lowering the bag into the cart, not givinghim the satisfaction of seeing me get all swoony over him. “That’s healthy.”

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