Page 115 of Butter My Biscuit

“What are you doing here?” My heart races when I meet his eyes under his baseball hat.

He smells like leather and sweat and hay.

“We had plans, and I always bring the popcorn.” He holds it up with a smile.

I open my mouth to say something, but the words get caught in my throat. He shushes me and shakes his head, then moves his attention to the screen. Every part of my body tries to ignore his existence, but when I feel the warmth of his arm brush against mine, I can’t. I move it so I don’t internally combust.

When young Jenna says she wants to be thirty, flirty, and thriving, I chuckle. “Same.”

We watch the entire movie, and both of us laugh where we usually do. Even though I promised myself I wouldn’t cry at the end when her best friend is about to get married, elephant-sized tears pool in my eyes. I try not to blink because I don’t want them to fall, but it hits differently, knowing I don’t get to go back in time for a second chance.

I’ve kept the promise that I made.“If either of us gets to a point where we feel like this will destroy our friendship, we stop, no matter what.”

The screen goes black, and the pink credits roll. I stand, wiping tears from my face, unable to look at Harrison, but he reaches forward and wipes my cheek.

“How did you know I’d be here?” I ask.

“Because I know you, Gracie.”

I sniffle.

“To new beginnings,” he says.

“New beginnings,” I admit and smile, continuing to walk down the aisle.

“Where are ya headed?” he asks, throwing the empty popcorn container in the trash.

I turn around, walking backward, and look at him. “To buy myself flowers.”

“I’m coming,” he tells me, and we leave the theater.

The air feels different against my skin as we walk a few blocks to the nursery. It’s a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky as we silently navigate the awkwardness. There has never been a point in our relationship where we needed to fill our time with chatter. But right now, it feels like something needs to be said because neither of us has anything to say. It’s weird, and I don’t know how to feel.

We enter the nursery, moving past the entrance gate, and my eyes glance over bright pink and purple flowerpots. Moments later, Harrison’s little sister Vera walks over. She gives Harrison a side hug, and he smiles wide. He’s a great big brother, protective, and would go to war for them.

“Whatcha doin’, sis? Workin’ hard or hardly workin’?”

She slaps him in his stomach. “I’m working hard after having to sell Summer a truckload of soil so she can start prepping for updating the landscaping at the B-and-B. I hope when Beckett marries her, it magically fixes her brown thumb.”

Summer is known for killing a lot of plants. Even cacti And everyone is aware.

Harrison chuckles. It’s almost easy to imagine us falling back to how we used to be. But then I think about the closeness and the boundaries we stumbled over for years. And he’s right; that version, where I lay on his chest or he held me while we watched TV, it’s gone. Vanished.

Friends with distance because it’s easier that way—no temptation, no deep desire to do things we absolutely should never do again. Especially now that he’s engaged.

Harrison Valentine is my biggest temptation, a devil who makes me want to sin and never repent.

“So”—she looks between us with her hands on her hips—“whatcha here for?”

“I’m buying myself flowers today,” I explain. “He’s a tagalong.”

“Whenisn’the?” She nudges me, leading me over to the bouquets they have wrapped in red foil paper.

“I guess he won’t be once he’s married,” I add with a smile and pick up the bouquet of several mixed yellow flowers.

The smirk on his face doesn’t falter as he stands to the side and watches me.

I push my hair back to smell the sweetness. Every inch of my body burns under his gaze, but I avoid eye contact because it’s too damn much. I don’t have the energy today.

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