Page 69 of Romantic

“I tried that with poetry, and it didn’t work. And I totally lost my love for it.”

“I get that. I would never turn my woodworking into a job. But just because that’s what happened with poetry doesn’t mean the same thing would happen with flowers—there are a lot of different things you could do, and you have a real gift.”

“I don’t know. I’ve wasted enough time being the artistic dreamer in the family. I’m determined to start being serious.”

“Okay, then be serious about your flowers. If you think you could be happy pursuing that, then go for it. I’m not saying it won’t be hard work. But you’re a creator, Annie. It’s who you are. Who else would put flowers in my beard?”

She laughs. “Will you do that for my birthday next year?”

“Every year.” A little bold of me, I know. But the more we talk, the more confident I am about our relationship.

“Good.” Annie smiles wide. We stare at each other through our phone screens, and I count down the days till I’m well enough to see her again.

We start watching shows together. We’re on the second episode of a British detective show when Pepper comes into my room.

“Hey Dad!” She puts her backpack on my bureau. I pause the show.

“Pepper’s home. I better pause for a bit and see how the day went.” While I’m recovering, my parents have been driving Pepper to and from school.

“Tell her hi from me,” Annie smiles and waves from the phone screen. “We’ll finish later?”

“Absolutely.” I hang up as Pepper climbs up on my bed, snuggling next to me. “Annie says hi,” I tell her as I put my arm around her.

“You were on the phone with Annie?”

“Yes, we’re watching a show together.”

“Like a date?”

“Well, not exactly. But . . . I’ll tell you what. As soon as I’m better, I’m asking her out.”

“Finally!” Pepper hops to her feet and jumps on my bed. “I thought this day would never come. Hallelujah!”

Marianne could never love by halves.. —Sense and Sensibility

22

Annie

This is my life now. Apply for jobs. Talk to Brandon. Play piano. Talk to Brandon. And I couldn’t be happier.

I never thought Brandon was much of a talker. I once joked that he was so sparing with his words that he acted like each one took a week off his life. Now he’s downright garrulous, and I love it. It feels like I cracked the code to a treasure safe, and my reward is all of Brandon’s stories and thoughts and sweet comments. He is seriously so fun to talk to. I love hearing what he’s thinking about—even more so because I know I’m one of the few people who gets a glimpse inside his mind.

Late one night as we video chat, he asks how I’m feeling about Jack. “Honestly, just stupid. You know, I mainly dated him because I was tired of waiting for you.”

His eyes get wide. “Wait, what?”

“I had dropped so many hints . . . I thought you were interested, but then you never asked me out. And then Jack showed up . . .”

He looks away for a moment. “Oh yeah, your birthday. I’ve regretted not going swimming with you pretty much every day since.”

“And then, remember the night of the Ex-Lax debacle? I was this close to ending things with him because I wanted to date you, but you made it pretty clear you weren’t interested.”

“But I was!”

“Maybe, but I overheard what you said to Pepper.” I hesitate, embarrassed. “I was coming back to your place—I didn’t mean to eavesdrop . . .”

“Oh no!” Brandon groans. “What did I say?”