Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sophie
It’s just past seven when I pound on Willa’s apartment door. My knock is admittedly more forceful than it needs to be, but there are big things happening inside my brain, and I really need to talk to someone about it.
She swings the door open, and I barrel into her apartment. “Hi. Are you busy? Am I interrupting? Is Archer here?”
She closes her door and turns. “Not busy. Just making dinner. Archer isn’t here, but he’ll probably show up any minute.”
I follow her into the kitchen. Whatever she’s making smells really good, and it makes my stomach rumble with hunger. I did not end up eating Thai food with David, and now I suddenly wish I’d at least picked up something to go.
“What’s up?” Willa continues. “Why are you so keyed up?”
I grab a tangerine out of her fruit bowl and start to peel it. “Do you realize we haven’t had a conversation in six entire days?”
Willa looks over her shoulder and shoots me an apologetic smile. “I know. I’ve been so busy with work. I had this huge order come through for a party on Sunday night, and I literally feel like I’ve done nothing but ice cookies. What have I missed? How’s everything with Peter?”
I pop a few segments of tangerine in my mouth and settle myself on one of Willa’s barstools. “Let’s see. Do you want to hear about the amazing kissing first? Or the fact that Peter’s possibly moving to another state? Or should I tell you about the flower blooming for me and another guy?”
Willa slowly turns. “Oh, wow. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
We do, and we do. I talk until dinner is ready. Until Archer comes in, kisses her hello, takes one look at me, then takes his plate and heads right back out again. I talk right up until Willa sets a plate of teriyaki chicken and rice in front of me and hands me a fork, and I don’t leave anything out.
“How did David take it when you bailed on dinner?” Willa asks. She sits down on the barstool next to mine with her own plate. “Eat,” she says, motioning toward my food. “It’s getting cold.”
I scoop up a forkful of rice. “He seemed disappointed, but he was nice about it,” I say. “I mean, we hardly know each other. It’s not like he really had time to hope for an actual relationship.”
“Yeah, I guess not,” Willa says. “And you feel really good about your decision, yeah?”
“What do you mean?”
“Like, you aren’t worried about regretting your decision not to date David.”
I put down my fork. “What are you really asking here?”
“Just let me be pushy for a second, okay? Answer the question. When you think about never seeing David again, about having a relationship with Peter instead, are there any lingering doubts or fears still troubling you?” She scoops up a bite of her food. “Take a minute to think about it. I want a real, honest answer.”
My brow furrows as I take another bite and really consider her question. As much as I worried and questioned before, now, my mind feels calm and clear. Something happened when I talked to my mom. When she used Peter as an example of a positive relationship in my life. Something clicked and shifted, and my perspective completely changed.
“No doubts,” I say. “I don’t want to date anyone else. I don’t want to get to know David. I do want to be with Peter.”
“And the flower?” Willa asks.
I frown. “I don’t understand why the flower bloomed for the wrong man. I really wanted it to work for me, and I believed that it would. But I’m a grown woman, with a heart and mind of my own. I know what I want. Who I want. I don’t have any doubts about that.”
Willa smiles. “You’re absolutely sure?”
“I’m absolutely sure.”
“Good,” she says. “That means I can tell you the flower didn’t actually bloom for you and David.”
I freeze. “What?”
Willa bites her lip. “Don’t be mad, all right? I had no idea until you just now told me what happened, or I would have cleared this up the minute it did.”
“Willa,” I say, suddenly desperate to understand. “What are you saying right now?”
“Saturday afternoon, when the big hailstorm hit? Archer and I were on the roof.”
“No you weren’t,” I say. “I was the only one up there until David showed up. I would have seen you.”
Willa rolls her eyes. “We were, and you didn’t see us because we were hiding behind the rose trellis.”
“Doing what?” I ask, still struggling to wrap my head around what she’s telling me.
“Nothing! Just?—”
“Willa,” I say, my voice firmer this time.
“Fine! We were making out. Is that what you want me to admit? We saw you coming, and we didn’t feel like stopping, so we snuck behind the trellis and then David showed up, and it felt totally silly to just emerge from the bushes in front of a complete stranger, so we stayed hidden until the storm started.”
“But I would have seen you leave,” I say. “I stood in the rain and stared at the flower long enough to get totally soaked.”
Willa’s cheeks heat the slightest bit. “We kissed in the rain long enough to also get thoroughly soaked,” she says. “We only ran once the hail started.”
“When I was already in the storage closet,” I say. I drop my head into my hands. “All this time!” I groan. “All this time, I’ve been absolutely miserable because I thought I was supposed to be with some rando, and it’s your fault! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“I didn’t know there was anything to tell!”
“No, I mean, why didn’t you tell me earlier tonight ? When I first told the story?”
Her expression clears. “Ohhh, I see what you’re asking.” She shifts on her stool to face me. “I just wanted to make sure you had your feelings sorted out. You’ve never been particularly good at trusting yourself, Sophie. You doubt your judgement, your ability to maintain relationships, your worthiness of friendship. It’s big that you decided to love Peter even without the flower’s approval. I wanted you to hear yourself say it out loud.”
“Because I don’t need a flower to tell me how to feel,” I say, remembering Peter’s words the first night we kissed.
Willa nods. “I mean, it’s pretty fun when the flower agrees with you. But it’s even more fun that you get to choose.”
Emotion wells up in my chest. “I do get to choose.”
“Yeah. You do.” She reaches over and grips my arm. “Honey, does this mean you’re moving to Charlotte?”
I choke out a laugh with a sob caught somewhere in the middle, and suddenly I’m crying into what’s left of my dinner.
Willa stands and retrieves a paper towel, handing it to me to wipe my nose. “It’s too soon to actually think that, right? I mean, we’re not even together. And it might not even come to that. He might not like the job. He might decide to stay here instead.”
“He might. But if he doesn’t—would you move to be with him?”
I think about my job. About my boring bosses and the life they strip out of every single one of my designs. I love Serendipity Springs. It’s been my home for a decade. But I’m not sure how much it would still feel like home if Peter wasn’t in it. “Yeah, I think I would. Is that totally bonkers?”
“Maybe a little. But it’s not like you just met the guy. He’s been in love with you for a long time. Your history matters here.”
I look at her and frown. “He’s been in love with me? Is that something you know for a fact?”
Willa grimaces.
“Wait, are you serious? You do actually know it as a fact?
“I mean, it’s pretty obvious just from the way he looks at you. But yes. The night you had dinner with Jake, Peter came here, drank with Archer, and basically told us everything.”
“And you didn’t say anything to me about it?”
“It wasn’t my information to tell,” she says. “And Peter wasn’t ready for you to know. Not when you were in the middle of Operation Soulmate.”
“But then I came to you and told you I liked him, and you still didn’t say anything!” I say. “What kind of a best friend are you?”
“The kind who knew you needed the journey more than you needed the information. You needed this, Soph. You needed to believe in yourself more than you believed in the flower. I have zero regrets for keeping Peter’s secret.” She rubs her hands together. “Now. What’s the rest of your week look like? Because I think you need to fly to Charlotte to surprise your man.”