Epilogue
Sophie
Six months later
The late October air in Serendipity Springs is crisp and cool, but not so uncomfortable that it’s unpleasant to be outside. My rooftop garden still looks beautiful, despite my absence the past few months, which eases the slight ache that squeezes my heart over being here, over recognizing that The Serendipity isn’t my home anymore.
Reggie, of all people, the college coed who lived next door and scared me into forcing Peter to sleep in my bed, apparently has a green thumb and happily took over care of the garden when I moved. He’s done an amazing job. He even convinced Archer to install a gas fire pit in one corner, surrounded by several comfortable outdoor chairs and couches.
Peter steps up beside me, two large pizza boxes in hand. “Where are we sitting?” he says, looking around the garden.
“Over by the fire pit,” I say, gesturing to where Willa and Archer are already waiting for us.
It’s the only reason we’re on the roof together. If Willa and Archer are on the rooftop too, we’ll know the flower—which seems completely impervious to the cooling temperatures—is blooming for them no matter what it would or wouldn’t do for us.
It’s good to be back with Willa and Archer again, though it hasn’t been all that long since we actually moved. It took us a long time to both get to Charlotte permanently. Time for leases to run out and jobs to become available. Our relationship was partially long-distance at first, but we got really good at traveling back and forth, taking advantage of long weekends and working remotely as much as our jobs allowed. But now, we’re both in Charlotte full-time. I’m working with Gregory and loving every minute of it, and Peter is thriving in his new job.
We’re only back in Massachusetts to celebrate my mom’s birthday, who is, believe it or not, in a relationship that has lasted longer than all the others. His name is John, he is not wealthy, and I think he just might be perfect for her.
I follow Peter over to the fire pit where Willa stands and gives me an enormous hug. I hug Archer next, then we all dig into the pizza.
“Hey, Archer,” Peter says, in between bites. “Why don’t you tell us who won our racquetball game this morning.”
Archer frowns. “One game, Peter. You won one game. How many times have I won?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Peter says. “You can’t ruin this victory for me. It tastes too sweet.”
We all laugh, then fall into easy conversation about life in Serendipity Springs and our new life in Charlotte. I tell them how much I love working for Gregory, and they give me updates on all our mutual friends from The Serendipity.
Then Willa surprises me when she suggests that maybe sometime soon, she and Archer could come to Charlotte for a visit.
Willa has always struggled with travel, with leaving Serendipity Springs, so it’s big that she’s suggesting it.
Archer drops a hand on Willa’s shoulder, his expression gentle and full of warmth.
“You know I would love to have you visit,” I say, and she grins.
“Oh! I almost forgot. I made a batch of cookies just for you! Let me go grab them.”
She jumps out of her seat and heads across the garden, but she must not make it far, because only seconds go by before she calls my name.
“Sophie?” she calls. “Can you come here a sec?”
I put down my pizza slice and go in search of her, only to find her standing just past the rose trellis next to the Japanese maple.
“What’s up?” I ask as I approach.
I follow her gaze to my magical flower and let out a little gasp.
The flower is blooming just like expected, just like always, except this time, I see two blooms instead of one.
Two blooms.
“Have you ever seen it do that before?” Willa whispers.
“Never,” I say. “Do you think it means…” I meet her gaze, and Willa gives me a hopeful smile.
“Two blooms for two couples?” she says.
I close my eyes. I don’t need the flower to bloom for me and Peter. I am completely, even desperately , in love with him. So in love with him that even six months in, I still think about pinching myself because our relationship doesn’t seem real.
But if the flower is blooming for us, well. I can’t say the confirmation wouldn’t feel good. Like a true full circle moment. Is it wrong that I kind of want it now that I know it’s a possibility?
“Should we test it?” Willa asks.
I open my eyes. “How would we do that?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe Archer and I could leave for a second? Then you could watch and see what happens?”
“Okay, yeah, let’s do that,” I say before I can lose my nerve. “But do it in a way that doesn’t alert Peter.”
“Alert Peter to what?” Peter says as he comes up behind us.
I spin to face him, and I see the exact moment his gaze lands on the flower. His eyes widen, his mouth falling slightly open.
“That’s it?” he asks, and I nod, suddenly wondering why we didn’t stop and look at it on our way in. His hands were full of food, and I was so excited to see Willa, I didn’t even think about stopping to see it.
Peter leans down to study the flower, his finger gently brushing across the petal.
While he’s distracted, I nod to Willa who runs over and gestures to Archer. Together, they sneak around the opposite side of the garden and head downstairs.
I hold my breath as one of the blooms slowly closes, leaving only one bloom on the plant.
Peter stands and looks over his shoulder, surprise on his face. “What just happened?”
I smile, warmth spreading behind my ribs. “Archer and Willa went downstairs.”
He looks at the flower, then back at me again. “So that means…” His words trail off, and I step forward, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“It bloomed for us, too,” I say.
He lifts his hands to my face, cradling my cheeks as he presses a kiss to my lips, long and slow. “Now that we know,” he says, “it feels kinda stupid that I avoided coming up here for so long.”
“It’s not stupid,” I say. “It’s sweet. We took our destiny into our own hands. Love isn’t magic, it’s an action. And we’re doing the work of loving each other.”
He kisses me one more time. “Loving you isn’t work, Sophie. It’s like breathing.” He looks over at the flower. “What would you have done had the flower bloomed for us before you’d actually fallen in love with me? Do you think you would have been surprised?”
I cock my head, like I’m considering. “In this hypothetical situation, does the flower bloom before or after I see you in your tiny running shorts? Because that was a pretty significant turning point for me.”
Peter rolls his eyes. “What is it with you and those running shorts?”
“It’s your fault,” I say. “You’re the one with the distracting?—”
Peter swallows the word thighs with his kiss, but he knows well enough what I was going to say. I comment about his running shorts every time I see him wear them, and it still makes him blush when I do.
“Should we tell Willa and Archer they can come back now?” I ask. “I’m ready for my cookies.”
He holds my gaze, his palms running up and down my arms. “Not yet, actually,” he says, a new trepidation in his voice. “I think…I want to ask you to marry me first.”
I suck in a breath, heart suddenly pounding against my rib cage. “Are you serious right now?”
“I wasn’t planning on doing it now, here, but…” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a tiny velvet bag. “I do have this ring, and the flower bloomed, and honestly, I just don’t want to wait anymore.” He drops to one knee and pulls the ring out of the bag. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Sophie. Will you marry me? Give me what I’ve wished for on every birthday cake since the tenth grade?”
Tears spring to my eyes as I take in the beautiful ring. We’ve never even talked about engagement rings, but this one is perfect—a single diamond surrounded by clusters of gemstones in pink and green and blue and purple. The smaller stones are arranged to look like flowers, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Peter, it’s perfect,” I say.
“The second I saw it, I knew it was the one I had to buy. It looked just like you.”
I let him slip the ring on my finger, then I tug him to his feet and jump into his arms. “I would love to marry you,” I say. “My answer is yes.”
He kisses me with reverence and tenderness, and my heart aches with a joy that’s almost painful for how good it is—for how right this feels.
Six months ago, Peter told me our relationship was too good to be true.
It feels that way now, but it won’t be the last time I think so.
I think it when my mom walks me down the aisle on our wedding day.
When Peter holds our baby girl for the first time, tears streaming down his face.
When we buy our first house.
But I also think it whenever Peter wears his NASCAR t-shirt to bed. A significant point because he only pulls out the t-shirt when he knows he’s made me mad and he wants us to be friends again.
Maybe it’s the adorably sheepish look on his face whenever he puts it on. Maybe it’s the genuine love in his eyes. Maybe it’s because Peter is really good at apologizing—with his words and his kisses.
Or maybe it’s just because that t-shirt reminds me of how long he waited for me to love him back. Steady, patient, unyielding Peter.
Kind, good, generous Peter.
I can’t help it. That stupid t-shirt works every time.