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I start typing, then erase my message at least four times, which is probably freaking her out. In the end, I decide to go with the simple truth.

Me: The first time I saw you, moonlight was spilling through the windshield of your car

Me: It’s what I think of when I think of you

Me: I think we’ve moved past formal with Ms. Holland, and Cordelya is too pretty a name to shorten

Me: So I guess I’ve been calling you Moonlight since that first night

Me: It slipped out

Me: It wasn’t supposed to make it to the text

Me: Please ignore me now

Me: I’m rambling

I place the phone face down and mentally kick myself.

“Way to freak her out, Count,” I grumble to the universe as I lean my head against the back of the swing.

My phone pings, startling me.

I nearly fall off the swing in my haste to snatch the phone before it falls to the ground. When I unlock the screen, there’s a new message notification from Cordelya. I swipe it open, preparing for the worst.

Cordelya: I’ve never had such a lovely nickname

Cordelya:

I exhale roughly as relief washes over me.

She likes it.

It feels as if the universe is giving another sign that things are going in the right direction.

Over the next few days, our texts become the thing I most look forward to.

We always start the day with a good morning. I do my due diligence as a medical provider and check on her ankle. She humors me and sends pictures of her wrapped foot. Something I most definitely need to teach her to properly do.

Her attempt is less wrap and more like she lost a battle with a toilet paper roll.

By afternoon, I’m reminding her to ice her foot. She ignores me in favor of chatting about her shift at the pub or a cute animal she saw on her way back home.

Somewhere between medical advice, cute animal pictures, and her calling me Auggie, these texts become the best part of my day.

I’ve been trying to stop by the pub ever since our first text conversation, but with Tilly out sick, I’ve been pulling doubles. Even though I’m desperate to see her, it’s given me time to formulate a plan.

A plan that requires a stop by Bloomhaus.

“Welcome in,” calls a friendly voice as I enter the flower shop.

“Hey, Kallie,” I call back as I head to the large glass cooler with prearranged bouquets.

A moment later, Kallie appears by my side.

“Hey, Augustus,” she says, pulling me in for a hug. “What brings you in today?”

I turn my attention back to the display case.