Chapter 24 #2
Allison’s lip wobbled at how she’d compete with Wells for the rest of her life. He’d always have more resources than her.
He could probably buy our baby the right kind of strawberries. She swiped at her tears with her sleeve, feeling sorry for herself.
She’d buy their child discount sneakers while Wells spoiled them with the latest designer pair.
She openly sobbed, her chest heaving at the impossible road ahead of her.
She’d been crying so loud that she must not have heard Wells’s knock. He poked his head through the door, his face full of alarm.
“Hey, hey,” he said, rushing through the living room. “What’s going on? You okay?”
“My shoes aren’t good enough. No princess tower.” Her voice wobbled as she cried, “And they’re all diiiiirt.” She sobbed loudly, sitting in a circle of strawberries.
“All of what’s dirt?” he said, his eyes scanning around her.
The sobs had taken control of her mouth, and all she could do was gesture around her.
“What did Shortcake do now?” he said, pushing the hair out of her face and wiping her tears. He reached over to her side table and pulled out four tissues from the doily-covered box.
And didn’t even make fun of her for it.
She leaned into his hand as he dried her tears.
“I’ve been craving strawberries, but they all taste wrong,” she said, her voice quavering.
“And the trash smells awful, and I can’t go in the kitchen.
And I feel bad because I’m not at work.” She sighed.
“But it felt like the scent of flowers was invading my lungs and my brain was becoming one big hyacinth.”
She sniffled into the tissue.
“Okay, well, I can fix one of those,” Wells said decisively as he stood up.
By the time Allison had dried her tears and blown her nose another three times, blessedly, the scent of rotten spring lettuce mix was fading from her cottage.
“Can I get you anything?” he said, staring down with a worried look at all the strawberries.
“No, thank you. You did everything I needed. I appreciate it,” she said, now composed and closing up the containers of strawberries.
“I’m happy to go to the organic store in Elliotsville. Maybe it’s something with the way they’re grown.”
She sighed. “It’s off-season anyway, so anything I’d get would be watery and old.” She sniffled. “I even tried frozen, but still…dirt.”
Her lip wobbled again, but not wanting to cry anymore in front of him, she swallowed it down.
His eyebrows knit together as he stood there, hands on his hips. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go.”
“Okay,” Allison said, straightening her back, looking strong.
She didn’t want to be a burden, didn’t want anybody, especially him, to worry about her. As if he would worry about her that much.
“But text me if you have any more trash emergencies,” he said with a distracted look around her place.
“Will do. Thank you,” she said, staring sadly at the useless strawberry snacks in front of her, deciding that she might as well squeeze some work in.
She’d started doing as much work from her cottage as possible, and June had been happy for the extra hours.
With the terrible smell gone, she got lost in follow-ups with clients, brides, and party requests, looking at inspiration photos from other florists in the area, and planning the front displays. She wanted Lily to be so impressed with her ideas the next time they chatted.
She snacked on plain saltine crackers, but goddamnit, the only thing that sounded good was strawberries.
She groaned, grimacing at the kitchen.
An unexpected heavy knock on her door made her jump.
That sound belonged to only one person.
She looked at her phone. No missed texts from him. She walked to the door and opened it to see Wells holding a grocery bag in his arm.
“Did you know Pittsburgh has ten different specialty food stores? But what I think you might want was at the Asian grocery store in Pittsburgh.”
Allison was trying to play catch-up. “You drove two hours? For strawberries? For me?”
He shrugged as if it was no big deal. He jostled the bags, pulling out a carton of curiously pale pink strawberries.
Nearly the same color as her hair.
“Are those ripe?” She grimaced.
“The lady said they’re good for pregnant women, and they taste different, more tropical. They’re supposed to be pink.”
Her mouth salivated, and she clawed open the box on the porch.
When she bit down on the pale pink strawberry, candy-like sweetness burst out of the fresh fruit.
She bent over with a moan, finally tasting something other than dirt.
This…this was exactly what she had wanted.
This miraculous perfect strawberry healed something inside her. Made her feel whole again. Relief washed over her.
Before she’d finished chewing the bite, she popped the rest in her mouth, tearing it off the green stem, and grabbed another, chewing as fast as she could.
“Oh my god. What are these?” She moaned, inhaling a second one. “Where did you find them? Do they come in a pallet?” She gasped, inhaling a third one.
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding the box away from her in alarm. “Just, you know, finish what you’re chewing first. They’re called pineberries.”
“I am pregnant,” she said through a mouthful of berries and gulped, feeling like some deep yearning need had finally been satiated.
She had a bloodlust for pineberries, apparently.
She sighed, finally feeling able to relax. She swallowed and reached across Wells to where he held the box away from her, grabbing two more.
“They probably sell them by the case. Lucky for you, I bought a second one.” He held up a completely unopened box in the grocery bag.
Allison’s heart leapt as she chewed her fifth strawberry, savoring how right it felt.
“I can get you more tomorrow,” he said.
She chewed the strawberries, still standing in her doorway on the porch with the door open, not wanting to move from this moment where she finally felt like her needs were met.
And that stupid, irritating need to cry came over her again.
She had been going mad, and he’d fixed it.
Before she could think better of it, she burst forward and wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, chewing the rest of the strawberry in her mouth.
He stood there for a split second, one arm holding a grocery bag and the other holding the half-eaten carton of pink strawberries, but slowly, he wrapped his arms around her.
She realized there would be a spotlight on them because it was dark, and they were on the brightly lit porch.
She pulled back.
Everything was still under wraps for another few weeks.
He handed her the grocery bag and the rest of the strawberries and reached past her.
She hadn’t noticed that there had been a big bouquet of daisies on the porch bench.
He handed them to her with an embarrassed wince.
“I saw these and…well, I noticed you didn’t have any flowers in the house and you always have flowers in the house, and figured daisies don’t have a smell, plus you have daisies on your bedspread.
And…well, I thought of you,” he said, looking soft somehow and pleased with himself.
“Thought maybe you could use a pick-me-up. You seemed less…sparkly without them.”
She stared down in surprise, completely baffled. It was a lovely grocery store arrangement full of bright, healthy daisies.
She realized with a shock that she hadn’t felt forgettable in a long time.
Not since Wells had become a fixture in her life.
He shrugged. “No big deal or anything.”
Kind of a big deal. “You thought of me?”
“I always—” He stopped himself, clearing his throat as he wiped a hand over his mouth.
“Yeah, because of the strawberry hunt, I mean. You were top of mind. Anyway,” he said quickly, shrugging.
“I should go. I have a poker game, but let me know if you need anything, and I’ll swing by.
I have to go to Pittsburgh for supplies tomorrow anyway, so I’ll get all the pineberries they have. ”
Allison nodded, eating another one with mild confusion as she processed the enigma of this curious man.
Wells leaned down suddenly, bringing his face level with Allison’s navel.
“Be nice to your mother, Shortcake.”
And if the flowers didn’t make Allison’s heart trip over itself, that sure as heck did.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said with a small smile and a wave.
Her hand holding the box of strawberries found its way over her stomach as she watched him walk to his car.
Confusion still colored everything in her brain, but one thing was very clear.
“Shortcake,” she whispered secretly to her stomach as he drove away. “In a shocking turn of events”—she pressed her face into the daisies and felt whole as the petals danced over her face—“I think I like your dad.”