“You know, I didn’t expect you to choose me for this date,” Holly said, lifting her glass of Aperol spritz to her lips. The orange slice caught the setting sun, and the ice clinked softly and refreshingly in the late heat.
Sienna hadn’t either. But it wasn’t like she’d had much choice. She’d been given two options: either Brooke or Holly. Of the two, Holly had seemed like the right decision. Not that she was unhappy about it. With her dark curls and honey-brown eyes, one would have to be blind not to think Holly was attractive.
“Why not?” Sienna asked, despite having a fairly good idea of why Holly had brought it up. Of all the contestants, Holly had failed every single bush survival activity by at least a mile. In fact, she’d been so bad at them that Themba had suggested she lie down in case of heatstroke.
“Well, it wasn’t like I did well with any of the activities,” Holly said. “My fire kept going out. I completely messed up those navigation exercises. And tracking, well, apparently I’m not very good at it either. It really is impossible to identify a canine by the shape of the paw pad. All I saw were blobs in the dirt.”
“At least you tried,” Sienna said. “In my book, that’s the most important thing and the reason you impressed me.”
It wasn’t entirely true. In fact, it was more of a lie, really. But she wasn’t going to admit that Vivian had shown up out of thin air at the end of the workshop, leaned in close and whispered in her ear, telling her to choose between the two contestants. Sienna had felt the prickliest goosebumps on her arms when Vivian’s lips had brushed lightly against her skin.
She also wasn’t going to tell Holly how fast her heart had beaten at the sight of Vivian reappearing, or how the air had seemed to leave her lungs when Vivian had walked up to her, or how her skin had burned where Vivian’s breath brushed the strands of hair falling over her ear.
Right then, a ladybug landed delicately on Holly’s cheek. Sienna, who had always believed that ladybugs were good luck, smiled. Maybe the universe approved of her lie. Or maybe it was just relieved Sienna was focused on Holly this evening and not Vivian.
“I’m grateful,” Holly said, then looked up at the branches of the massive leadwood tree towering above them. Its branches were gnarled and twisted skyward, and they reminded Sienna of her grandmother’s arthritic fingers. “Can you imagine all the things this tree has seen? Imagine living a thousand years,” she said, still gazing up in awe.
Earlier, Themba had given them a quick history lesson. “Leadwoods can live for thousands of years, and even after they die, their skeletons can remain standing for up to eighty years. They’re incredibly resilient and sacred to many local communities.”
“Do you think that’s really true?” Sienna asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Holly said, glancing around her.
Sienna did the same. It felt important, vital even, to take it all in. The setting was almost too beautiful to be real. Sienna didn’t think she’d ever end up on a date like this again, under a giant tree with golden grass shimmering under the golden sinking sun.
They were sitting at a wooden table, which rested on a handwoven rug patterned in burnt orange and navy. Tiny glass lanterns sat on the table, glowing with candlelight. Napkins were folded perfectly and tied with sprigs of dried lavender.There were copper plates, crystal wine glasses, and a bottle of unopened white wine chilling in a silver bucket.
Holly picked up her fork and poked at a tomato. “I feel kind of bad about eating this,” she said, pointing down at her plate. “It’s almost too pretty.”
And she was right. The starters—seared scallops in a puddle of citrus beurre blanc, roasted cherry tomatoes glistening like jewels, a thick smear of carrot purée, and a handful of micro greens—looked like something out ofBon Appétit.
“Me too,” Sienna said, cutting a scallop in half. She watched the buttery sauce cling to her fork and tried not to think about it when she stuffed the bite into her mouth. She chewed and chewed and chewed. And without realizing it was going to happen, an excruciating silence followed. The kind that stretched long enough to make her ears itch and her stomach knot in self-consciousness. The kind that made her painfully aware of how loudly she was chewing and how hard her fork scraped against the plate.
Sienna was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to eat in silence while the cameras hovered nearby. She even wondered if they should eat at all or if the food was just there for props.
But no one came rushing out to tell her otherwise. So, she ate the other half of the scallop and savored it for a second before she said, “You know, when you walked up to me during the introductions and handed me that huge envelope, I never expected a pressed flower. What did you say it was called again?”
Holly had told her the name of the flower, but at the time Sienna had felt so nervous that everything going in one ear had come right out the other.
“Lobelia cardinalis,” Holly said, chuckling. “Do you know how long it took me to locate one? I had to drive out to this wildflower patch in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s not exactlyrare but getting a bloom that big and perfect enough to press wasn’t easy.”
“Well, I’m flattered,” Sienna said. She even did the whole hand-to-chest thing and batted her eyelashes for the camera. For the quickest, briefest second, she thought about what Vivian would think if she saw her flirting with Holly, but the thought dissolved as quickly as cotton candy hitting water.
Besides, why would Vivian even care?
“You should be,” Holly said and winked. “I was a nervous wreck at the airport. I kept imagining them confiscating it at security when we landed. My hands were sweaty throughout the entire flight. By some miracle, it made it through safe and intact.”
“I promise to get it framed,” Sienna said, forgetting all about Vivian and focusing on what was in front of her. Holly. Holly was right there, gorgeous, and had gone to so much trouble with that gift. “Something that took that much effort to get to me deserves a place on my wall.”
Holly beamed.
“Now tell me, what’s it like being a florist? I’m sure it’s a little more chaotic than finding beautiful flowers to press for someone you’ve never met,” Sienna said.
Holly laughed. “There’s plenty of chaos. Especially in February for Valentine’s Day and then again in the summer. I do a lot of weddings, and I swear every bride wants something crazy. Garden roses that won’t wilt in ninety-degree heat or centerpieces as tall as them. But then there are days when it’s quiet. Just me and my flowers and the radio on. Those are my favorites.”
By the time the mains arrived—lamb chops drizzled with rosemary butter, roasted potatoes dusted in sea salt, and honeyed carrots—the conversation had shifted to home. Holly told her about growing up in Brevard, a small mountain town inNorth Carolina, and how the fog used to hang over the valley like a curtain most mornings, and when the sun came in and burnt it off, everything smelled like wet pine and soil. Sienna had told her about her apartment in Los Angeles, two blocks from the beach in Santa Monica, and how she’d never met her neighbors, and how when she really listened, she could hear the waves from her bed.
When dessert came around—a molten chocolate cake that oozed the moment Sienna broke into it—Holly admitted that she followed Sienna’s travel blog and when she spotted her under that acacia tree, she had recognized her immediately. Sienna hadn’t known what to say to that except, “Well, now I kind of want to go through my posts again and make sure none of them are embarrassing.” To which Holly had laughed and said, “Just the opposite.”
