I shook my head. “You.”
“I was going to say thank you. For letting me be part of this.” He gestured at the destroyed shop, the evidence of a day well spent. “For all of it.”
“You made it possible.” My voice had gone rough. “Not just today. Everything.”
“You would have managed.”
“No.” I stepped closer. Close enough that he had to crane his neck, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. “I wouldn't have. And I need to tell you—”
I stopped. Dragged a hand through my hair.
“Reid told me to just say it,” I muttered. “But I don't know how to—”
I stepped closer again. Jamie stepped back.
His shoulder caught the edge of the oak cabinet.
The bag of rose petals, hundreds of petals, tipped off the top.
Time slowed. The bag tumbled, the folded top coming open, and then petals were falling. Red and pink and white, catching the last of the evening light through the windows, drifting down over both of us like snow.
Like confetti. Like celebration.
My grandmother never believed in accidents. “The universe has opinions,” she used to say, usually when something went wrong. I could almost hear her voice now, that dry humor underneath:Well, Holden. What are you going to do about this?
The petals caught in Jamie's hair, gold and pink together. Landed on his shoulders, his eyelashes. Settled on the green henley he'd worn all day, clinging to the fabric like they belonged there.
He blinked, and a pink petal fluttered from his cheek.
For a moment neither of us moved. Just stood there, petals pooled at our feet in drifts of red and white. Jamie looked like he'd been decorated for a celebration he hadn't known was coming.
I wanted him. Not for three weeks. Not until Valentine's Day. Forever.
“Oh no.” His voice was small. “The wedding—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
A laugh escaped him, startled, almost disbelieving. A petal fell from his hair to his shoulder. I reached out and brushed it away, and my hand stayed there, cupping the side of his neck. His pulse jumped under my palm.
“I love you.”
The words came out rough. Raw. No polish, no grace, no careful arrangement of syllables. Just the truth I'd been too scared to speak, forced out before I could swallow it down again.
“That's what I couldn't figure out how to say.” I cupped his face in my hands, holding him carefully so I could see his eyes. Rose petals clung to his sweater, his hair, caught in the collar of his shirt. “I love you, Jamie. I just—”
His hands reached up and pulled my face down.
The kiss was fierce. Everything he'd held back pouring through, meeting everything I'd been afraid to give. I had to bend almost double, but he was pulling me down and I was going, bending to him. Petals crushed under my boots as I pressed him back against the cabinet. His fingers twisted in my shirt, pulling me closer.
“I love you too,” he said. His voice cracked on the words. “Holden—”
A soft huff at my feet made us both look down.
Marceline sat at our feet, tail wagging, eyes wide with that expectant look she got when she wanted to be included in something. Bubblegum had padded over too, sniffing at the petals with great interest, her smaller body pressing against Jamie's ankle.
Jamie's laugh turned into a snort. “We have an audience.”
“Nosy girls.”
