Page 82 of When Wildflowers Bloom

The cold air pops out at me as I open a freezer filled with popsicles, and Bo leans next to me, pink sticky note on his finger in front of my face.

“What’s this?” I ask, eyes going to his.

“The last one—read it.”

I do—repeatedly. Three words that have the power to change the course of my life:Fall in love.

I let the freezer door close, swallowing the chill.

“You knew this would happen.” I don’t have to ask.

He nods, tousled hair falling into his face, dark eyes locked on mine. “For me. From the second I saw you standing on Gran’s porch.”

“You love me.” Another not question.

“I love you,” he says, pressing the sticky note to my chest, taking my hands in his, “and you love me.”

I simply nod, letting his words wash over me. Bo has a wife and I might die, but we love each other anyway. A flower growing in soil that’s too rocky but somehow blooms.

“You know,” I say, pulling my hands from his and opening the freezer door again, “your listmaking skills need work.”

He laughs as I hand him a box of popsicles. “Really, Pam Beesly? How’s that? Seems I got what I wanted.”

I shake my head. “Only barely.” I lift an eyebrow as I look at him. “Usually if you’re trying to win someone over, a proper list needs to tell them how wonderful they are. At length.”

Cart moving again, he’s next to me.

When I stop to look at the cooler of meat, his hand catches around my wrist, pulling me close to him. Any trace of amusement is gone from his face.

We’re close, so close the movement of our bodies when we breathe presses into one another. “I’m in love with you, Birdie,” he says, voice lower now. Serious. “If you want the reasons, I can give them to you.”

“Bo, I—”

“I’m not done,” he cuts me off with a light kiss before continuing. “And you don’t get to shut me out because you feel things that are scary; you tell me. And we deal with it. Together. Even if it’s hard and ugly. We figure it out and love anyway.”

Another pause, another kiss. Everything he says goes into my ears and drips a delightful kind of warmth throughout my whole body like the wax of a candle.

In the middle of the grocery store, I’m speechless.

“I love you because you grocery shop on Fridays, dance with your dad on Thursdays, laugh with Lucy, and take care of Gran the way no one else can.” With his final words, a needle pops the bubble of the beautiful dream I’m standing in. Because, yes, I’m taking care of her, but I have no doubt someday he might not see it that way. This reason he’s listed for loving me is one he might eventually give for hating me.

But, as if he sees me getting lost in my own head, he gives me another kiss. “I would say I love you because you pulled me in theback of your minivan after drinking triple sec and giving me a fake name, but maybe that’s just lust.”

I snort. “Well, for a stalker, that’s a pretty solid list, but it’s notthatlong.” The smile that covers my face is huge, giddy, and absolutely ridiculous.

He vibrates with a laugh, an easy, “I can give you one hundred reasons,” and another light kiss on my lips.

“You love me,” I say, as if trying to manifest my own belief in his words.

“I do.”

“Even though there’s a good chance I’ll die.” I offer him an out, my last-ditch effort for us to both walk away from this inevitable disaster.

“There’s a great chance you’ll die.” He’s so matter-of-fact. Unfazed.

I slap his chest. “You know what I mean, Bo. There’s a great chance I’ll diebeforeyou. Much before you.”

“Birdie, I’m not going to live my life thinking about what ifs. My dad died in a car accident and my mom took off, so did my wife. None of them had a genetic mutation that led to their fate. It’s just life.” He pauses, looks at me. “As much as I can’t stay away from you because of Mandy, you can’t push me away because of this.”

---