Page 36 of A Vine Mess
As I was hovering on that precipice between awake and asleep, Ella whispered one more word, so faint I couldn’t be sure I didn’t imagine it.
“Liam.”
Finally, I fell into a deep sleep with a smile on my face.
“What is that?” Ella yelped excitedly as we crossed the city limits into Sioux Falls, South Dakota about four hours after we’d left the motel the next morning.
On one street corner was an abstract bronze sculpture, the next a statue that appeared to have been carved out of wood. All the way down the main drag, regular art installations popped up.
“Must be some sort of festival,” I mused as I drove us deeper into the city.
After some quick tapping on her phone, Ella nodded and said, “The Sioux Falls Sculpture Walk. Apparently, there are over eighty sculptures placed all around town, and we’re encouraged to walk around and enjoy them.”
I knew the words that would come out of her mouth next before she could even speak them, and as she asked if we could stop, I already had my blinker on and was digging my wallet out of my pocket to pay for parking.
With no real destination in mind, we got out of the car and wandered in the direction we’d driven in from, Ella stopping every so often to marvel at the creations.
“Artists are incredible, aren’t they?” she asked me as she canted her head to the side to get a better angle on the sculpture in front of us. It was some sort of optical illusion that presented a new facet with each movement around it.
The sculpture was impressive, but I really only had eyes for her.
“Yeah, they are.”
Her cheeks turned that pretty pink color as she said, “You can’t possibly mean me.”
“Why not? Art evokes emotion, right? Isn’t that what you’re doing every time you put together a fresh arrangement of flowers?”
“I mean, yeah, but it’snot—”
“Don’t you dare say it’s not the same,” I warned, wagging a finger in her face. “Because it is. You bring people happiness every time they get a delivery from Blossom’s. And you’re insanely talented, Wildflower. Your arrangements are the best I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re a man,” she grumbled. “What do you know about it?”
More than I cared to admit.
I didn’t particularly appreciate her stereotyping me either. I made my living growing grapes and producing high quality wines. And wasn’t that a form of artistry in and of itself? While growing conditions varied considerably from region to region, winemakers across the world were given the same tools when starting out. It was how they were nurtured and fermented that determined whether the wine would win awards or be considered bottom shelf. As a daughter of an impressive winery legacy, Ella should know that better than anyone. Not being part of the family business directly didn’t give her an excuse to ignore that.
“Vinting is an artform too, Wildflower. A less aesthetic one, based in chemistry and a slave to the weather more than anything else, but an artform nonetheless.” She opened her mouth to protest, or to explain herself. I didn’t know, and I wasn’t about to find out. Because unfortunately, my mouth decided to run away without me, dropping a bomb between us in the middle of the sunny street. “And I’m a man who came into the shop once a week every week for the last four years to buy flowers just so I could see your face. So someone reminded you how amazing you are. Because I’d bet all the money I have that your tool of a boyfriend wasn’t doing it.”
There it was. My deepest secret laid bare. The secret crush I’dbeen harboring was no longer locked away but out in the open at last.
“You…” she sputtered. Then, barely above a whisper: “There was no one else.”
I shook my head. There was no going back now, and I wasn’t even going to try. “You’ve always been the someone special, Wildflower.”
“You mean to tell me…four years?”
I nodded, surprised to find there wasn’t a hint of embarrassment to be found anywhere within me. Truthfully, it feltgood, cathartic, even, to finally be admitting this.
Fuck being friends. I wanted to show her there was an alternative to the relationship she’d been broken by.
Maybe, with all of my cards on the table now, things could become something more between us.
Maybe, she’d stop pretending she didn’t feel this spark too.
We continued to wander for another hour or so, slowly making our way back to the van and hitting the road farther west into South Dakota.
“So where exactly are we staying tonight?” Ella asked an hour or so from the Badlands.
