7. Amelia
Chapter seven
Amelia
M y phone buzzed, rattling against the coffee table and nearly toppling my steaming mug of morning tea. I snatched it up, my bleary eyes widening as message after message flashed across the screen. Emily. Susan. Both were ranting about Frances's latest blog post.
With a growing sense of dread, I clicked the link. The page loaded, revealing a post titled "Love Blooms at the Ballpark: Amelia Carter and Trevor Phillips' Sizzling Reunion." There were photos of me at yesterday's baseball game splashed across the gossip blog in vivid color. Close-ups of my face, all dreamy-eyed admiration as I watched Trevor. Oh no. I wanted to crawl under my duvet and hibernate until the humiliation blew over.
My stomach plummeted as I scrolled through the article, zoomed-in photos of my every reaction to Trevor's home run on full display. There I was, cheering, jumping up and down, hands clasped to my heart. The caption read: "Amelia Carter, local florist, can't contain her excitement as her high school crush hits a homer. Is love in the air?"
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. This was a disaster. Had I really been that obvious? Maybe I'd gotten carried away in the moment. I mean, sure, Trevor's home run was impressive, but did I have to act like a starstruck teenager? What must he think of me now?
A sharp rap at the front door interrupted my spiral of self-doubt. I glanced down at my oversized pajamas, covered in cartoon flowers, and cringed. I peeked through the peephole, and my heart skipped a beat. Trevor stood on the other side, looking apologetic and determined.
Great. Just great. Of course, he'd show up now when I looked like this and felt completely unprepared.
With a sigh, I opened the door a crack. "Trevor, hi. What are you doing here?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but I could hear the nervousness in my own tone.
"Hey, Amelia." He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes flicking over my pajamas. "Can I come in? I think we should talk."
I hesitated, acutely aware of my messy bun and the fact that I resembled an overgrown toddler. But the earnest look in Trevor's eyes made me relent. "Fine, come on in. But no judging the pajamas, okay? They're comfy, even if they make me look like I raided a kindergartener's closet."
"Wouldn't dream of it." Trevor strode into my living room, his gaze lingering on my bunny slippers. Hero trotted obediently at his heels. His little nails clicked against the hardwood as he surveyed his new surroundings with alert brown eyes.
What was I thinking, letting him see me like this? He probably thought I was a complete mess. And why was he here? To confront me about my behavior at the game? To let me down gently.
"Um, don't mind the mess," I said, suddenly hyper-aware of every imperfection in my living room. "Can I get you some coffee or tea?"
"No, thanks." Trevor's eyes locked onto mine, and there was an intensity there that made my mouth go dry. "I think you know why I'm here, Amelia."
My heart raced. This was it. The moment of truth. No more dancing around these feelings. But was I ready for this conversation? What if I said too much? What if I scared him away?
"About the dinner invitation..." Trevor's voice was softer now, tinged with uncertainty. "And those photos Frances posted... I need to know, Amelia. Am I imagining this...this thing between us?"
My heart stumbled over itself like a clumsy ballerina. The vulnerability in his expression took me by surprise. Trevor Phillips, the epitome of calm and collected, looked at me like I held his heart in my hands. Oh, how I wanted to cradle it gently, to soothe away the doubt in his eyes.
"No, you're not imagining it," I said, the words tumbling out before I could second-guess myself. "I... I would have said yes to dinner. I was going to say yes. But I guess I've been confused."
There. It was out there. No take-backs. I couldn't look him in the eye. I fixated on a loose thread on my shirt, twisting it around my finger like I was trying to create the world's tiniest ball of yarn.
"Amelia." His voice was gentle, urging me to look up. When I finally did, I was met with a smile that took my breath away.
"You have no idea how happy I am to hear that." Trevor took a step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. The air between us hummed with electricity, and I felt myself gravitating toward him, drawn in by the sheer force of his presence.
But then his smile faltered. "So wait, who was that guy you were talking to after the game?"
My heart skipped a beat. "Oh, that was just Liam. He's a...business associate." I rushed to explain, not wanting Trevor to get the wrong idea. "There's nothing romantic between us, I swear."
Trevor nodded, but the tension in his shoulders didn't quite dissipate. "I see." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I'd come to recognize as a sign of nervousness. "So, what kind of business were you discussing? You looked awfully friendly."
"Actually, Liam made me an offer." I took a deep breath, steeling myself for his reaction. "He wants to buy my shop."
Surprise registered on Trevor's face, his eyebrows shooting up like they were trying to escape his forehead. "Buy your shop? But why?"
I sighed, my gaze dropping to the floor. "Because it's struggling. I'm struggling." The words tasted bitter on my tongue, an admission of failure I'd avoided for far too long. "I've been trying to keep it afloat, but it's not enough."
Trevor was silent for a moment, processing this new information. I glanced at his face, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression was unreadable, a mix of emotions I couldn't quite decipher.
"I had no idea," he finally said, his voice soft. "Why didn't you tell me?"
I shrugged, a defensive edge creeping into my tone. "It's not exactly something I like to broadcast. Besides, it's my problem to deal with. My garden to weed, so to speak."
"Amelia," Trevor said, his voice low and serious, "this decision affects more than just you. It affects me, too."
I bristled at his words, my defenses rising. "How does it affect you? It's my shop, my life. I'm the one who's going to lose everything."
Trevor ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his movements. "Yeah, and I don't want you to lose everything. But earth to Amelia. I rent an apartment here. If you sell the shop, I have to find a new place to live."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. "I didn't think about that. I'm sorry. I just... I didn't know how to tell you. I haven't made a decision. We just started to discuss the possibility of him buying it or maybe becoming partners last week. He has been offering for a while, but I just really realized how bad things are. I thought I would see what kind of offer he would make. It's not like I want to sell. The shop is my baby, my dream. Selling it would be like... like selling a piece of my soul."
"Amelia..." Trevor's voice softened, his hand reaching out to cover mine. "You don't have to do this alone. We can figure something out together. Let me help you. Two heads are better than one, right? Even if one of those heads is currently sporting a spectacular bedhead."
I nodded, not trusting my voice. My heart was pounding so loudly that I was sure he could hear it. We began to lean in, the air charged with anticipation. His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing gently over my skin. I let my eyes flutter closed, feeling the warmth of his breath ghosting over my lips.
Just as our lips were about to meet, the shrill ring of the shop bell shattered the moment. We sprang apart, both flushed and flustered. I cursed inwardly at the interruption, my body still thrumming with the almost-kiss.
"Oh my gosh, I'm still in my pajamas!" I yelped, glancing down at my bunny slippers and cartoon-covered flannel. "I can't let a customer see me like this!"
Trevor, ever the gentleman, quickly composed himself. "I'll go tell them someone will be with them shortly. You go change."
I nodded gratefully and ran to my bedroom, my mind reeling from our near kiss. What had I been thinking, letting things go that far? I had enough on my plate with the shop's financial struggles and Liam's offer to buy it. The last thing I needed was to complicate things further by getting involved with Trevor.
But even as I threw on a presentable outfit, I couldn't shake the memory of his lips almost on mine, the way his touch had set my skin on fire. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, before heading to the shop.
When I returned to the shop a few minutes later, freshly dressed and marginally more composed, Trevor was gone. I felt disappointed, wondering if the moment had been lost for good, like a dandelion seed in the wind.
But then I saw it. On the counter, a single red rose lay atop a folded note. I picked it up with trembling fingers, inhaling its sweet scent as I read the words in Trevor's bold handwriting.
" Breakfast tomorrow? Pick you up at 8. -T "
A smile spread across my face—slow, wide, and full of promise. I had been so focused that I barely noticed the customer in the corner looking at the book of available arrangements. I walked over to help her and let out a long sigh.
As I helped the customer, my mind raced with possibilities and fears. I was on the brink of something new and exciting but also terrifying. Only time would tell if I was making the right choice.