Page 67 of When Fate Breaks
“Oh,” Blake says, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, they just sort of…reminded me of you.”
I examine the resin more closely. “What are they?”
“Forget-me-nots.”
My gaze snaps back to Blake, my brows raising and mouth falling open.
“I’m sorry it’s not much,” Blake says. “I was on a budget and in a bit of a time crunch.”
“Hey” I say, taking a sudden step closer to Blake, grabbing his chin so he’ll look me in the eyes. “It’s perfect.” Blake’s lips part. “The best present anyone has ever given me.”
Blake reaches up slowly, gently removing my hand from his chin and wrapping it behind his neck. His other hand finds my waist, pulling me closer to him, causing my breath to hitch. His gaze flicks down to my mouth and I feel my willpower beginning to slip. I don’t know if he leans in first or if I do, but we’re suddenly a hair width apart. I start to let my eyelids fall close when a bright light suddenly switches on just to our side, causing both of us to jump back a step.
“Shit,” Blake and his father say at the exact same time.
I see Kyle Di Fazio through the pouring rain standing in the back door of the house up above us on the deck in a white t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. His eyes dart back and forth between Blake and me, taking in the scene of us both covered in mud and in each other’s arms in the backyard at 3:00 a.m.
“Dad–” Blake starts, but Kyle cuts him off, throwing his hands in the air.
“Nope. I don’t want to know,” he says, reaching out and switching off the light as he spins in the doorway to go back inside. “Go to bed!” he calls over his shoulder as the door shuts and Blake and I are left alone, eyes wide and jaws unhinged. A few seconds pass until Blake breaks the silence.
“Well, shit,” he says, breaking out in laughter.
My head falls into my hands. “Oh my God.”
13
PRESENT DAY
“Oh my God!”
“I know,” I groan, closing the door behind me as I enter the greenhouse, my hair instantly sticking to my neck from the post rain humidity.
“I don’t even know what to say.”
I switch my cell phone to my other ear, sidestepping a puddle on the floor under the last remaining portion of roof that Blake has yet to install the glass panels in. “I didn’t either, Steph. Which is why I didn’t tell you. I’m– God, I know I’m the worst, but–”
“Annie, stop,” Steph cuts me off on the other end of the line. “I get it. I’m not mad. I think I’m just in shock for you. I mean, this isBlake.”
I blow a steady breath out of my pursed lips, running my finger along one of the many gorgeous potting tables I still can’t comprehend that Blake made from scratch. “Yeah,” I mutter.
“I mean, the last I saw him was when I found you guys in his–”
“Can we please not talk about that?” I croak out. I realize my hand is reflexively moving to clutch my chest. Probably because I’ve pushed the thought of that day out of my brain for over half a decade and the mention of it alone makes my heart want to tear straight in two.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, just– Jesus Christ, Ann.” Even though I can’t see her, I can picture Steph shaking her head clear as day, her dark brows pulled together. Leah may be my best friend and the one I’ve told everything about my past to, but Steph is my sister. She lived through some of the darkest parts of it right there next to me.
“I know,” I respond, not sure what else there is to say. “When is your flight getting in again?” I know exactly when her flight is getting in, but I’m desperate to shift the subject.
“Day after tomorrow at noon.”
“Day after tomorrow?” I echo.
“Yeah? Saturday? The day of the shower?”
How in the hell is that already the day after tomorrow? How in the hell is the shower justone day away? The past few days have been an absolute blur between work at the office and helping Dad at the store and answering Lori Beth’s thousands of texts about shower planning details…And trying my best to avoid Blake.
I hate myself for admitting that, even if it’s only inside my own head. I can’t decide if I hate myself even more for thinking of one day away more as the expiration date on Blake’s trip here rather than the date of my wedding shower. My finger stops its lazy trailing along every surface of the beautiful greenhouse that isn’t even done yet but already looks better than I could have imagined it.The date.
