Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 24266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
“Are you sure you don’t want to invite your father to our wedding?” she asked.
“I don’t have a father, Carmen,” I said. “You know that.”
“I know, it’s just…” She tapped her lip. Imagine how he’ll feel years from now, knowing that you’ve married, and you didn’t want him there.”
“He’ll feel the same way he does now.” I refused to budge on this topic. “He hasn’t been there for anything.”
“You don’t believe in forgiveness or second chances?”
“Not for people like him, and I need you to drop this subject.”
“But—”
“Now.”
“Okay, fine.” She kissed my cheek. “I’m sure you’ll be an awesome dad when we have kids.”
“I will be.”
“Here.” She pulled a small teddy bear charm from her pocket and handed it to me. “I bought that for you today. Whenever we get pregnant and pick a name, you should get it engraved.”
I rolled it around my palm. “My child won’t hate me like I hate my father,” I said to her. “I can promise you that.”
“I believe you.” She kissed my cheek. “I won’t bring up that topic again. Let’s get dinner.”
NINE
Dahlia
Dear Mr. Everett Anderson Sr.,
My name is Carmen Reese, and I’m your future daughter-in-law.
I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet, but I’m sending you these flowers in hopes that you’ll consider coming to see your son marry me at our wedding.
He asked me to personally reach out to you, because he was worried about the distance and time. He’s worried that too much has gone by but…I told him it doesn’t hurt to try, and family is everything.
No matter what.
Your formal invitation is included, and I hope you’ll consider joining us for a three-day event to celebrate our love.
Sincerely,
Your future daughter-in-law,
Carmen
I tore off the day’s top order and stuffed it into my pocket. Then I archived it before anyone could make the mistake of processing it.
When everyone was settled into their morning watering duties, I pulled out the letter again.
I knew that people changed, but I refused to believe Everett wanted anything to do with his father. A three-day event wouldn’t make up for all the times his dad left him heartbroken, and if Carmen knew him in the slightest, she would know better than to even think about suggesting it.
For a moment, I considered sending the blooms and her terrible note; this was none of my business and I’d done enough damage already.
I pruned a few roses and vowed to make a decision after watering the evergreens.
By the time I reached the final tree, the best choice was made clear: It’s not my business. Send them off like it was any other customer.
I pulled the lavender stems and lilies, and the printer spat out another order as I was prepping the paper.
Discreet insertion. Wax sealed Envelope.
Dear Carmen,
I hope this arrangement finds you well.
I received your wedding invitation and am shocked that you’ve invited me.
I’m not sure whether your intent was to stab me in the heart or the eye, but you’ve accomplished both…
I wish you well with your new life, but I won’t be able to make it.
Best,
Thomas Denton
P.S. We were in France not too long ago, and you swore that you’d give our love another try this year.
I guess you didn’t mean it.
I tossed the florals for Everett’s dad into a “mistake” box and permanently deleted the order.
GROWING SEASON
BACK THEN
Dahlia
Everett stands in front of his mirror, smoothing his tie for what must be the millionth time.
“How do I look?” he asks.
“Like you’re trying to look French, but you can’t hide your American-ness.”
He rolls his eyes. “I asked you to help me dress for a reason, Dahlia.”
“I know, I know.” I stand up and smooth his Ralph Lauren jacket. He’s saved up to buy it for three months and even asked to work for my mom to afford the additional tailoring.
I adjust his beret and step back.
“You look exactly like him in the picture he sent.”
“That’s what I’m going for.”
He’s never said it aloud, but even though his dad is a deadbeat, I know he secretly admires the business empire. He follows his journey through blogs and magazines and is proud that his father dresses Hollywood celebrities and is the number one choice for everyone.
Except him.
“Did you organize all the magazines?” he asks.
“Yep. I even made you a cheat sheet, in case you forget anything.” I hold it up. “He’s really coming this time. I can feel it.”
“Me, too.”
At nine o’clock at night, we swing on the porch in silence, watching the lightning bugs glow in the darkness.
At ten, we walk around his fence and chat about our homecoming plans.
When the eleven o’clock hour strikes, we stand at the edge of the driveway, as if headlights are bound to appear at any moment.
“He isn’t coming, is he, Dahlia?” he asks.
“His flight might’ve been delayed.”
“He flies private.”
“Maybe there was a mechanical malfunction, then. Maybe—”