Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sophie
Peter and I try to get on the same flight on the way home on Saturday, but it proves to be more logistical trouble than it’s worth, so I arrive home to The Serendipity before he does. I’m restless waiting for him. Pacing my apartment. Too preoccupied to do much of anything until he’s home.
Even though Peter has been a part of my life for a very long time, I am currently obsessed with him in new and miraculous ways. I cannot get enough of him. Of his kisses. Of the little smirk he gives me when he’s trying to be flirty. Of his open admiration. The man gives me compliments like he’s making up for lost time, and I am here for it.
When he finally texts that he’s arrived and invites me up to his apartment, I practically run the whole way there, sprinting up the grand staircase to the second floor and flying down the hall to Peter’s door. I’m raising my fist to knock when the door swings open and Peter is standing there, wearing the NASCAR t-shirt I bought him in the hall of fame gift shop after our tour yesterday afternoon.
I smile when I see it, then I launch myself into his arms.
He laughs and stumbles back with an oof. “Sophie, you saw me this morning. It’s been what, nine hours since we were last together?”
“I don’t care,” I say before pressing a kiss to his neck. “It was the longest nine hours of my life.”
“So this is how it’s going to be now.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say. “You started it. Now I’m hooked.” I press another kiss to his skin, moving toward the curve of his jaw. “Besotted,” I whisper. Another kiss. “Obsessed.” My lips move to the corner of his mouth. “Madly in love.”
He lets out a low groan, his hands sliding to my face. He kisses me soundly, thoroughly, until I’m breathless and weak in the knees. But then he pulls back and grins. “This isn’t what I called you up here for.”
“But it’s so fun,” I say, my hands skating up his chest. He catches my hands with his and takes a step back. “Come on. I want to give you something.” He leads me into the kitchen and has me sit at his table, then he disappears into his bedroom.
I glance around, noting how clean and ordered his apartment looks, despite the construction zone it’s been over the past few weeks. I’m still laughing about Steve’s final advice to Peter about how to handle his flickering lights, but I’m guessing now that we’re together, they won’t be giving him any more trouble. I’m as sure of that as I am that if Peter and I ever do make it onto the roof together, the flower will definitely bloom.
Not that I need it to.
I don’t. Not anymore.
The happiness and assurance in my own heart is all the sign I need that Peter is my happily-ever-after.
Peter reappears in the kitchen, and I gasp when I see what he’s holding in his hands. He sets the LEGO greenhouse down on the table, fully constructed and perfect.
“Peter! It’s beautiful.”
“I added something to the inside,” he says, his tone a little sheepish. The greenhouse is lined with glass—or plastic that’s supposed to look like glass—and the interior walls are covered in tiny LEGO plants with colorful plastic blooms. But there’s only one flower sitting in the center. A white one with a deep pink center.
“This way, the flower is always in bloom for us,” Peter says. “No matter what happens in your rooftop garden.”
I sniff, emotion making my chest tight. “I love this so much, Peter.”
“It’s yours,” he says. “It was always supposed to be yours. This, too.” He tosses an envelope down beside the greenhouse, then lowers himself into the chair perpendicular to mine.
I open the envelope, heart squeezing when I pull out a single sheet of paper containing Peter’s familiar handwriting, one of his number codes filling the center of the page.
“Oh, my gosh. I haven’t seen one of these in years.” Peter used to make cyphers for me whenever we were bored in AP Chemistry. The messages hidden inside them were always totally ridiculous. Mr. Finnigan looks like a penguin. I’m really in the mood for Doritos. Totally inconsequential stuff. But something tells me this one isn’t so inconsequential. Not if Peter still has it after all these years.
“I found it when I was packing up my old bedroom,” he says. “I was planning to give it to you after the prom, assuming you would actually say yes and we would go to the dance together. Since we didn’t…”
“You never gave it to me,” I say.
He nods. “You dated Jack until we graduated. Then we were going to different colleges, and…I guess the moment passed.”
I hold the paper in my hands, staring at the numbers like I’ll be able to puzzle out the code just by staring at it. “It’s been a long time, Peter. I don’t know if I can still figure one of these out.”
“I promise you can,” he says. “This one isn’t that complicated.” He stretches behind him and opens a kitchen drawer, retrieving a pen and a pad of paper, which he hands me. Then he stands and leans down, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “I’m gonna get us some food while you work.”
“For real? You’re giving me homework? On a scale of one to ten, how hard should I expect this to be?”
He pauses at his apartment door and grins at me over his shoulder. “It’s Monday-crossword-puzzle hard. Maybe Tuesday. I promise you’re qualified.”
“Barely qualified,” I mutter as he leaves me alone in his kitchen. But it only takes a few minutes for me to puzzle out the pattern. It’s a familiar one—one he used frequently in AP Chem. Each number corresponds to a letter but in reverse, except for vowels, which are assigned numbers one through five starting with A. So A is one, E is two, and so on. Then the rest of the alphabet counts down from six, starting with z, all the way back to the beginning, skipping the already numbered vowels so that b is twenty-six.
Once I sketch out the alphabet and determine what’s what, I have Peter’s message in front of me in a matter of minutes.
Dear Sophie, I know I made you work really hard to be my friend. It was only because I was so in awe of you, I kept waiting for the punchline because it had to be a joke. You couldn’t actually want to be my friend. But you didn’t give up. You tried and you tried, and eventually, you wore me down. I’m so glad you did, because now, I’ve fallen in love with you. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Soph. Even if you never love me back, I feel so lucky to know you. To be your best friend. I hope you will love me back though. If you’re reading this, it means I felt confident enough to give it to you, so fingers crossed. I love you. Peter.
I read it again and again.
It’s hard to believe he felt this way all those years ago, that he’s been carrying these feelings around with him for so long.
It makes me want to go back to give high school Peter a hug and kick high school Sophie right in the shins. How did she not see him for how incredible he was? How did she miss it?
Peter would tell me to be gentle with my younger self. And I probably should be. We have our whole lives ahead of us. Lives together. And maybe Peter is right, and we really did need some distance apart. Maybe things wouldn’t have worked out had we started dating in high school.
But I’m determined to see Peter from now on. To recognize and honor the privilege it is to be loved by him.
Half an hour later, Peter returns with cheeseburgers from my favorite burger place, mine made just the way I like it, and a Greek salad without olives. It’s something he would have done a month ago, order food based on what he knows I like, but it feels different now that we’re together. Like I’m so incredibly lucky that I get to have my very best friend be my boyfriend, too. I’ll never take that for granted.
“Did you figure it out?” Peter asks as he swaps half of my sweet potato fries for half of his regular fries.
“Yes, I did,” I say. “You were quite the wordsmith in high school.”
He reaches for the paper and picks it up. “I don’t even remember what it said.” The color in his cheeks deepens as he reads, then he groans. “Oh, man. I really wish I’d just thrown that away.”
I snatch it out of his hands. “Don’t say such a thing! It’s perfect.”
“It’s cheesy.”
“Perfectly cheesy,” I say. “I’m never throwing this away. My first love note from my first love.”
His eyes meet mine. “First, huh?”
I shrug. “It’s only ever been you.”
He leans forward and kisses me. “You stole my line,” he whispers against my lips.
Later when we’re snuggled on his couch watching Ted Lasso , I look up at Peter and press a kiss to his jaw. “Hey,” I say. “We’ve been in your apartment for hours, and your lights haven’t flickered one single time.”
“I guess Steve was right,” Peter says. “It really wasn’t a wiring problem. It was a relationship problem.”
I breathe out a chuckle. “And here I thought my flower would lead me to true love. But your apartment did all the heavy lifting.”
“I feel kinda bad for how much money Archer spent rewiring the place.”
“If anyone can afford it, Archer can,” I say through a yawn. “I should call Willa. She’ll be happy to know we finally figured ourselves out.”
“Yeah. Archer will be too,” Peter says. “Have you told Willa about the move?”
“ Ish? ” I say. “She knows it was on the table, but I haven’t told her we’ve decided anything for sure. I should though. We should.”
“We will,” he says, brushing a kiss across my temple. “But only if you’re sure it’s what you want.”
“At some point, you’re going to have to stop asking me that. I’m sure. Please trust me.”
“I do,” he says. “Of course I do. It just seems too good to be true. I’ve been wishing for this on every birthday cake since the tenth grade.”
I tilt my face up and press a long kiss to his lips, my hand lifting to brush along his jaw line. “Was it really every single birthday wish?”
“Every single one,” he says.
“Peter, that’s a lot of wishes.”
“It is a lot of wishes,” he says, love and warmth in his gaze. “Thanks for making them all come true.”
I smile, then I kiss him again. Because making his wishes come true is exactly what a main character would do.