“Uh,” I said, my face flaming red. “I’ve been taking care of the plants. I rehomedHeatherto Carla here, thinking it would be really great for her coffee shop.”
Silence.
Great. Cool. Not awkward at all. I rocked back on my heels and hoped she couldn’t tell I sweated.
“You shaved.”
“Yup.” I scratched my chin, self-conscious as hell. Did she hate it? Like it? The woman who spoke too much was too damn quiet, and I hated it. My insides hurt. I needed fresh air.
Peter and Carla looked back and forth between each other and me, and it was too much. I pointed over my shoulder. “Peter, I’ll catch up with you later if you need to have a meeting.”
“No, no, sorry. I know you gotta go. I’ll call you back later, Nora. Can’t wait to talk about strategies later.” Peter hung up the phone and eyed me.
It would be easier to come clean. “We had a thing. It recently ended, and that was the first time we’ve talked since. I’m sure you felt the awkwardness.”
“Oh baby, did we.” Carla shook her head. “Woo. That was secondhand embarrassment over here.”
“Thanks,” I deadpanned.
“What did you do?” Carla asked, her intelligent eyes assessing me with a new light. “You have guilt writtenallover your face.”
“Kept something from her thinking it protected me.” My jaw tightened. I just wanted time to explain, to show her it all was real, to get her to trust me again. With all the time that had passed, there wasn’tthatmoment where I could form a plan. But something about their comment intrigued me.
If she was looking for partners…that meant she didn’t have her money? Did she not fulfill her parents wish of working here for twelve weeks? God, did the thought of being near me mean she’d lost the shot at her dream? “Did you say she’s…uh…looking for a partner? Did she say why?”
Peter frowned and scratched his forearm. “Wants to open up a therapy greenhouse and wants to partner with a cause in the community to help. She didn’t get too into the details, but it sounds like she has funds to start it but wants to do more to connect with people.”
An idea hit. A wonderful, probably terrible idea. Nora was all about campaign awareness. Her stupid bracelets, hashtags, flyers. She loved bringing attention to causes that were special and important to her. She wanted to do things that mattered to the world. Helping her from behind the scenes to make her greenhouse into a nonprofit…yes. That I could do.
I tapped my chin, ignoring both Peter and Carla, and paced the café. Social media was where she shone, but if I could help bring awareness toherdream, her project—helping those who needed therapy and could use plants as that escape. I could get donations, help spread the word…but how? I was off social media for good reason, but I’d break my hiatus for her.
“Peter,” I said, loudly, making him jump. “What can you tell me about gaining followers?”
“What?” he asked, frowning and sharing a look with Carla.
“Nora might not forgive me and I understand that, but I want to help her. Can you show me what you did?”
Chapter Thirty-One
My first videoposted with my #bigplantenergy #greenhousegoals #atwoodoutreach #plantdad hashtags, and I showed a stream of all her plants with their names and mentioned her mission. It didn’t do as well as I’d wanted, and I’d spent the entire weekend brainstorming.
My kitchen counter was covered with sheets of papers with possible videos, each one sounding more stupid than the last, but I wasn’t deterred.
There was a comment that asked where someone could donate to and bam! I searched Nora’s social media and found her donation link if someone wanted to get involved. Copy and pasted that baby over to my page and went back to the research stage.
Engagement. That’s what I wanted.
I scrolled through hundreds of videos, searching hashtags and what did well, and was faced with a hard choice. If I wanted to gain traction, I’d have to show my face. Those were far more popular than the ones without people in them. It was worth a shot. Sighing, I eyed the plants she gave me and tested out some angles to make sure the light hit my face right. I wore a white T-shirt with the words #plantlife I’d I found online. It was tight, and with my recently trimmed beard, I looked good. This couldn’t hurt the situation.
“I have a confession to make. I’m a plant dad.” I paused, made sure I was in view as well as the plants she gave me. “I didn’t want to be. My neighbor sneaked into my apartment to gift me these plants. She showed me how nature can heal a person. I might’ve been uptight, but these babies changed my whole attitude. This is Jonathon and Ernie. They prefer rock music and crime podcasts. Jonathon is a pilea and needs indirect sunlight, and Ernie is a fern. Ernie is a tough one. I have to evenly moisten the soil for him, and he likes humidity. Which, come on. It’s hot AF outside.”
I made eye contact with the camera, winked, and stopped it. My entire body flushed, and I felt like I was going to hurl. This was so out of my comfort zone, but it felt right. My own way of telling my love story with Nora, and if I could help bring awareness to her cause, then I’d be able to forgive myself. I added my hashtags and added #NeighborNora and made sure my profile’s bio said JUST A PLANT DAD WANTING TO HELP NORA CHANGE THE WORLD. GET INVOLVED HERE with the link to her campaign.
My heart raced, and I posted the video. And now I waited. Trying not to freak out or second-guess myself. I didn’t have to wait long. I took a swig of beer and clicked on the notifications.
Comments started coming in.
You can bemy plant daddy.
