Page 63 of Every Rose

“And he dumped me.”

Marguerite looked puzzled. “Why would he dump you for being in love with him? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I’ve never, ever told a man I love him so I think I did it all wrong.”

“It’s three words. How could you screw it up?” Her sister wasn’t being sarcastic. She looked truly confused.

“Because I had lunch with Peter Buckingham that same day, and Peter asked me to marry him. When I told Matt about the proposal, he just blew me off, like I meant nothing to him.”

“Peter Buckingham proposed?”

“Yes.”

“And you turned him down?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, I’m so glad.” A black and white cat Rose didn’t recognize jumped onto the porch, stalked past her and jumped into Marguerite’s lap. The cat glared through narrowed green eyes at the chickens, but didn’t attempt to bother them. As Marguerite stroked the cat, she said, “What about when you told him you love him?”

“I didn’t. In my head, he was going to say, ‘Don’t marry Peter. Marry me!’ And we’d have that perfect moment where you both admit you’re crazy about each other. Instead he said, ‘No problem, It’s been fun. See you around.’”

Marguerite looked as sad as she did when one of their hens died of old age. “And Peter Buckingham?”

“I considered his proposal for about ten minutes, then called him on his way to the airport and politely declined.”

“So, if Peter hadn’t proposed, maybe you wouldn’t have discovered you love Matt.”

“Maybe. So?”

She spread her hands, her silver rings sparkling. “So, maybe he needs time to realize he loves you.”

“If he loved me, he’d have tried to keep me in his life. He ended things like he didn’t care at all.”

“Rose, I saw the way he looked at you. That is not a man who doesn’t care at all.”

She rubbed her forehead where a headache was starting. “So, what do I do?”

“Go and tell him how you feel.”

She was not in love with this plan. “But if he doesn’t feel anything for me, I’ll humiliate myself.”

“Isn’t a little humiliation better than a lifetime of regret?”

“I’ll get back to you on that.”

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