I look down at the flowers I bought from the florist and pray they’re the right ones. Cone flowers, the same ones her grandad used to buy her grandma when they were younger. They’re a pinkish-purple colour, the petals droop downwards forming the shape of a cone.
My hand shakes as I raise it to knock on the door. I only have to wait less than a minute before Hayleigh’s silhouette appears through the frosted glass. She opens the door, smiling widely as she takes me in.
I thrust the flowers forward. “For you.”Great job, Nate. That wasn’t awkward at all.
She takes them from me, laughing. “Why are you acting so weird?”
She steps back from the door, and I step forward, watching as she heads straight through the hallway to her kitchen. She pulls out a metal jug from the cupboard under her sink and adds water and the flowers.
From this angle, I can see her face, she’s smiling, humming a tune and pruning her flowers to make them look exactly right. I want to tell her how much I love her, how much I want to see her smile every single day, but at the same time, I’m scared that she isn’t ready. What if what she wants is something a little more casual, and to not be tied down to another person?
She places the jug on her windowsill, then spins around, arms folded, brow cocked. “Out with it.”
Somehow, I choke on saliva and spend a good minute coughing, my cheeks heating at the embarrassment, but she doesn’t move a budge except to pass me a glass of water.
I croak out. “Thanks.”
She smirks. “I’m still waiting.”
I take my coat off and grab the back of my neck. “Is it hot in here? I’m hot, are you hot?”
I know she must mean business because she plants her hands on her hips. “Nate.”
God, why am I so nervous? I never have trouble saying what I want to say. I’m usually outspoken and strong-willed, but for some reason, this five-foot beauty with her dark hair and blue eyes has me tongue-tied.
She drops her arms by her side, her mouth drops open, and her eyes widen as fresh tears well up in them. “Oh.”
Her tears have me panicking. “Oh? I didn’t say anything yet.”
She wraps her arms around herself and turns away from me.
Fuck.
I stride forward and wrap my arms around her. “I think I’m fucking this up, so I’m just going to ask you if you will be my girlfriend?”
She lets out a sob and shoves me off her, angrily swiping at her eyes. “Nate Peterson, you fucking idiot. I thought you were uninviting me to Sunday Dinner.”
I swipe a hand down my face. “Shit, sorry, no. That’s the furthest thing from what I want.”
Her bottom lip wobbles. “You want me to be your girlfriend?”
I cup her face. “I want more than that when you’re ready, but as a start, yeah, I want you to be my girlfriend.”
She lifts on her toes, and I meet her lips with my own, kissing her deeply. I’ll never get enough of her.
We break apart as she places her hands on my chest. “We'd better get going, I don’t want to keep your mum and dad waiting. I’m a bit scared.”
“You’re scared of my parents?”
She shakes her head. “Not of them, but it’s that stupid voice that niggles away in my head.”
I tap her forehead and whisper. “Hey, voice, shut up for a bit, will you?”
She smiles, but it falters slightly. “Nate, I have something to tell you, and I know you won’t like it.”
Despite my stomach dropping, I reassure her. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”
“Emmy and I were out to lunch yesterday, and we saw Chad. He said his father died, and his mother is petitioning for Pete to be released to attend the funeral.”
