Chapter 13
Lana
Almost a month since…the incident. And two weeks since he’s made me that beautiful garden—something I didn’t realize was missing in my home.
Since then, the flowers in the vase have been replaced twice. Sunflowers every time, but with different flowers paired around them. The notes are different each time too. On Monday, his note was:
You’re prettier than all the flowers,
I love you
On Wednesday, his note was:
Do you like me?
Yes or No
Circle one
I think each time it either gets cornier or cuter, I have yet to decide. Either way, on Wednesday, I circled yes and drew a tiny heart. Then I watched him open the tiny card and smile before he put it in his pocket.
Those flowers are my new favorite things. I wait for them every other day and look forward to seeing how they brighten my kitchen. He waits for me on those days—he sits on the sectional in the seating area across the kitchen and watches me as I find the flowers.
And today is Saturday—it’s flower day. Christian is going to be waiting for me again in his sports shorts and t-shirt before he goes to the gym or for a run.
So I get out of my bed with a smile on my face, trying to wipe it off before I walk out of my bedroom because they’re just flowers, right?
I’ve been trying to rationalize that to myself for the past two weeks.
Even between the conversations and the step arounds.
Even between the touches around touches and the looks that say more than we’ve been saying to each other.
Yawning and scratching the top of my head only to find a giant knot in my hair, I make my way downstairs. I force the muscles to remain stiff and still as I rest the last step and turn around for the kitchen.
Sure enough, Christian is sitting back in his gym clothes and watching The Office on the TV, laughing to himself. But then his gorgeous laugh fades when he turns toward me, his eyes moving up and down then back up to my face. He half-smiles.
“Hi,” I breathe.
“Hi.”
I shift on my feet, toying with the hem on one of his old t-shirts that now belongs to me. An old, washed out, dark gray Nirvana shirt and loose boxers I also stole from him. “Um, good morning.”
The half smile becomes a full smile. “Good morning, baby.”
I nod, swallow, and find the flowers. Sunflowers with blue delphinium, yellow daisy poms, green button poms, and purple statice, accented with assorted greenery. Miss Violet might have taught me a thing or two.
I look over at him, and he’s watching my face. My cheeks hurt from the smile that grew while I wasn’t paying attention and I can’t care.
I go to my flowers for the weekend and, as usual, I find the folded note card next to it. I hold it in my hand delicately—I’m saving these notes forever—and I hear Christian make his way toward me.
Today’s note:
High on life with you,
Christian ?
I sigh. Cute, sure. But maybe I’m overly sensitive? I turn and he’s sitting on a stool. He’s so cute, smiling like that. But it hurts.
“Do you think this is funny?” I ask quietly.
He stands closer to me and leans against the island. “A bit?”
“Christian—”
“I’m high on life with you,” he says gently, cautiously. “I love it.”
“You are unbelievable,” I whisper and close the note card. I hold onto it carefully so I can save it with the others. “Don’t joke about that. I… I’m—”
“I’m sorry,” Christian says softly and pulls me into my chest without any prompting. His hand holds the back of my head and his arm is around my waist, and he’s keeping me warm against his body. I feel like I could break. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”
“I know. I know, I guess I’m just…sensitive.
” My arms wind around his waist, my hands splayed across his hard back.
I allow myself to sink into him, breathe him in, and hold him.
But the wall is down for a moment too long and I pull it back up.
I unwind my arms and take a step back. “Thank you. For the flowers.”
Christian half smiles again, and it’s always been one of my favorite kinds of smiles on him because the right side of his lips tips up. And it's just… It’s beautiful.
“I love you.”
I nod. “I know.”
“You do?”
“I do,” I rasp. “I just…We’re working on it.”
“Does that mean… Are you giving me another chance?”
I huff and leave his side for a glass of water. “You’re an idiot.”
“What—How?”
“I’m letting you live in my house, Christian,” I say, filling my giant mason jar with water and taking a giant sip through the straw. I face him standing on the opposite side of the island, his eyes beaming. “What do you think?”
“I think I want to hear you say it.” His eyes go a bit too sad for my heart to handle.
“I’m giving you a chance, Christian Calloway,” I say softly.
Christian smiles. “Can I take you on a date then?”
I snort. “A date?”
“A date,” he sys. “A date you let the golden boy steal from me.”
Groaning, I roll my eyes. “That was, like, two months ago, let it go.”
He chuckles. “Go on a date with me, Lana.”
I drink from my water and pretend I’m thinking about it when I know I’m just going to say yes. I sigh dramatically and put down my jar. “Where?”
A victorious grin. “It’s a surprise.”
“No restaurants.”
He chuckles. “I wasn’t going to take you to one anyway.”
My gaze narrows and I glare, trying to crack him down when I’m really just looking at him for the sake of looking at him because he’s back. I can look at him whenever I want now. At night, sometimes, knowing he’s downstairs isn’t enough.
I won’t say it to him or anyone, but sometimes I’m scared to go to sleep while he’s here. What if I wake up and he’s gone again? And I’m trying, I swear I am. I’m putting my faith in him, I’m giving him all of the hope I have in my heart in his hands to hold.
I suppose that’s the funny thing about trust, right? It’s all blind. Every day is a version of the trust-fall game, with everyone you know.
What’s worse though? I know Christian would catch me—I know that in the depths of my heart and in the far back of my mind.
“Fine,” I breathe out like I hate the idea. “Okay.”
Smiling, he grabs his keys and phone from the island, his gym bag from the floor, and comes around to kiss my cheek. “Eight o’clock.”
“Where are you—” I blink. “I mean, what are you doing today? Wh—”
“I’m gonna go to the gym right now,” he says, his hand coming up to cup my cheek and his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Tend to the garden and stuff.”
I huff a laugh that makes him grin.
“What are you doing today?” Christian asks.
I shrug and kiss his thumb, leaning into him. His hand cupping my cheek sifts through the hair at the back of my neck and holds me steady—or himself, I’m not sure at this point. “I was going to go to the gym too but there’s this guy who keeps stalking me,” I tease. “He goes to my gym…”
Christian cackles. “Come to the gym with me then. I’ll protect you.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Christian…”
“Why not? It’ll be part of the date.”
“You said eight o’clock.”
“It’s almost eight.”
“In the morning.” I cross my arms. “Don’t be greedy.”
“When it comes to you? Impossible.”
I poke his chest. “Go,” I tell him. “I’m going to read, clean, and maybe nap. I have a date tonight.”
Christian smiles and he needs to leave. Now. Before I do something stupid like kiss him. But he kisses my cheek again, then my forehead. His lips linger there, just in the center of my forehead, pressing. My eyes fall closed and I want him to stay home today and lie here with me.
I want to do nothing with my favorite person to do nothing with.
“I’ll see you later, baby,” he says quietly, pulling away.
He walks away, leaving me with weak knees and an even weaker heart.
Yes, my heart is weak for him, but in a good way.
In a way that your best friend, your greatest love, allows you to be weak with them.
In a way that means I don’t always have to be strong with him because he can hold me up when I can’t carry the weight—the way I’d do for him. The way I’ve done.
I fell in love with him when I was nineteen and it wasn’t with just the good parts.
Love doesn’t work with only the good parts of you.
Love functions with the ugly too. Love needs the ugliness to prosper, I think.
I saw his ugly, I matched it with my own.
We traded our ugliness, our darkness, our weaknesses, and our secrets, and none of it—none of it, made me ever stop loving him.
And soulmates are real because I have mine and he brings me flowers three times a week with a silly little note. He’s made me a garden. He’s made sure I eat every morning before work. He’s here everyday, cooking and cleaning and making himself at home. He’s…here.
Christian is here.
I’m fifty percent into this book I started after my shower, and I’m determined to finish before tonight. But that plan goes out the window when the front swings open and from the living room, I see them.
“Lana!”
I bookmark my page. “I’m here.”
Natalia runs in barefoot, giggling, and sits next to me. “Soooo…”
I sigh and sit up, crossing my legs at the ankles. “So?”
In comes Isabelle, her short dark hair half up, and humming to herself. I jerk my chin at her and ask Nat, “What’s going on with her?”
Natalia rolls her eyes. “She saw Nico and they flirted without flirting. They’re annoying.”
“We aren’t annoying!” Isa sits on a love seat opposite us.
“Then fuck already!” Natalia groans.
Isabelle flushes red. “He’s my brother’s best friend!”
I chuckle. “I’m sure Luca, your twin brother with whom you shared a womb, would want you to be happy.”
Isa frowns with a weak shrug. “One day,” she says quietly and sadly. “Anyway, that isn’t why we’re here.”
“Okay?”
“We’re here because Christian told us you’re going on a date tonight.” Natalia grins. “He’s very excited about it.”
“So we’re here to help you pick an outfit,” Isa says.
I roll my eyes but my cheeks heat. “He told you he was excited?”
Natalia nods, smiling. “Not in those exact words.”