Page 66 of Unravel Me

As I gathered my stuff, Mabel galloped toward the car. An instant serotonin boost.

“Hi girl.” I smiled down at her, my weekend bag looped in one arm, iced coffee in my other, and Mabel trotting along next to me as I strolled to the front door.

I don’t quite make it there before my heart drops in my stomach and time stands still. The screened door opens and Rhett steps out, a curious look on his face. He’s still him, faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt spanning his chest. He flashes me a crooked smile, but I can’t return it, because something’s changed here.

“When did you do this?” My mouth is dry as my eyes flit between him and the flower beds lining the front porch. Where there was once nothing, now sits six hydrangea plants. A few blue flowers hanging on.

Rhett creases his brow, skipping down the steps, stopping at the edge of the new soil. He chews his lips, studying the plants.

“They’re a bit ragged right now, but I’ve been reading all about how to care for them, and by next summer, they’ll double in size and be full of flowers. Or blooms. Sorry, this is new to me.” He explains, kneeling into the soil, his hand gingerly on the flowers, gaze fixed on me.

“Why?” I whisper. My voice breaks as a warm breeze blows through the yard, pushing loose strands of chocolate hair into my face. I push it back, but my feet remain glued to the earth below me.

Rhett clears his throat and stands. “They are your favorite flowers. Blue hydrangeas. You spend a lot of time on the front porch, and I thought you might enjoy seeing them,” he replies so logically, like it just makes sense. Like it’s natural to plant someone's favorite flowers in your front yard. I told him my favorite flowers were blue hydrangeas on our first date.

Deep breath.

He didn’t buy me roses.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, forcing the tears back.

He planted my favorite flower. In his yard. So, I can see them every day.

Next summer they will be full. I want to run into his arms this very minute and never let go. Yet another part of me wants to run, as far as I can, because what if next summer I'm not here to see them. The thought nearly knocks me off my axis.

“I’m sorry. If this upsets you...”

I drop my items in the grass and reach for Rhett's hand.

“What if there isn't a next summer?” I nearly whisper and Rhett steps closer to me, bringing his arms around my neck, kissing the top of my head.

“I wouldn’t have planted these if I didn’t see a next summer, darlin’.”

He pulls back and I bite my cheek until I taste iron, a hollow ache in my stomach.

I nod, and though he looks confused he doesn’t push me to explain, he doesn’t make me feel bad for my reaction. He simply leads me into the house, his fingers laced in mine, but before the door closes, I gaze over my shoulder to look at the flowers as tears prick the back of my eyes.

I can’t live in this in-between anymore.

Guys who are summer flings don’t plant a garden for you.

And you don’t fall asleep thinking about how much you love them.

“I know this looks like a hole in the wall, but I promise they have the world's best breakfast.”

Rhett has been going on and on about the diner in town all morning. We woke up this Saturday morning to find the kitchen mostly devoid of food, so he suggested we go into town to eat. Walking hand in hand, he guides me down the main street of a town I realized I no longer felt like an outsider in.

“First, I don’t judge a book by its cover. Some of the best food I’ve ever had came from some unassuming street vendors and tiny restaurants.”

“After you…” Rhett holds the door open for me as I step inside, the door chime ringing like a call from the past. I’m not exaggerating; this little diner is a genuine time capsule, complete with shiny red booths, a soda counter, checkered floors, and a giant analog clock ticking away on the wall. It’s the most charming place I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the waitress beams at Rhett from behind the counter, her vintage uniform adding to the nostalgic atmosphere.

“Your booth is open, Rhett.” She tilts her head to the back. We slid into the booth, facing each other, and before I could ask, the waitress was at the table with two mugs and a pot of steaming coffee.

“I was beginning to worry about you. You haven’t been in all summer.” She raises her eyebrows at him, glancing my way. Rhett smirks, blue eyes settling on me.

“I’ve been busy. Rosie, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Audrey.”

Rosie, who could be my grandmother, instantly changes her demeanor, blushing as she turns to me.