Since Colin had met Annie, heâd had rare, fleeting moments of great confidence when he was determined he was going to finally tell her how he felt. It always began with ridiculous plans for some over the top gesture, until the confidence inevitably wore out long before he actually got to the part that involved actually telling her.
Today, he was waltzing around the flower market, trying to pick out the flowers that heâd give her when he told her. Somehow they had all seemed easier from back at the house when heâd first gotten the idea. He had had the foresight to invite Carrie to come along: because who better than to comment on whether or not a girl would like certain flowers than another girl?
But Carrie had been strangely quiet most of the morning. Colin, however, hadnât noticed. When he had Annie on his mind, he rarely noticed anything else at all.
He stopped, however, when sheâd made the comment about the roses. He considered them. âTheyâre pretty,â He said, âBut maybe the red ones are more romantic?â He paused, âOr maybe thatâs too clichĂ©. I donât wanna be too clichĂ©. Maybe we should go with the white ones. I mean, a famous princess did like them ⊠although, now Iâm gonna think about how there were a bunch of these guys at her funeral. Thatâs kinda depressing.â Heâd held one in his hand, but then he put it back. âSo maybe not.â
He exhaled, frustrated. âNone of these are perfect. It needs to be perfect.â
Hearing Carrieâs comment, Chase came up behind her and took the flower from her, turning it twice as he considered. âThe white ones just make me think of that scene in Alice in Wonderland. You know, where theyâre painting them? And if we take them to Alanâs house, heâll probably just try to paint them anyway.â
He handed the rose back to Carrie and moved to clap Colin on the shoulder, leaving his arm around him as he cocked his head slightly. âYouâve got to lighten up, man. Just go with your instinct. What do you think sheâd like. After all, thatâs the best way to choose? Right, Carrie?â
As he called over his shoulder, Carrie nodded her approval. âYes, of course,â she said quietly, putting the white rose back where sheâd found it. She didnât know why sheâd even agreed to come. Or, rather, she knew quite certainly why sheâd agreed to come. What she didnât know was why the ground had yet to open up and swallow her whole.
She moved off as Chase talked to Colin, walking between the rows of flowers and trying to find something of interest. Eventually, she stopped before the tulips. Reaching for a dazzling white, she began to twirl it between two fingers. âAudrey Hepburn adored white tulips,â she said quietly. âOr so Iâve heard.â
Carrie honestly knew nothing about flowers. She saw them every day at the lighthouse but she never stopped to smell them or to admire their beauty. In fact, sheâd googled types to give a woman before Colin picked her up. But, still, even her meager knowledge wasnât helping. Because she wasnât Annie. And it seemed that would always be the problem.
Colin said he wanted Annie but did he really? Each time heâd tried to take the next step and tell her how he felt, heâd found some reason not to. Though Carrie was guilty of almost the same. Each time sheâd tried to tell Colin that she regretting the cessation of their romantic relationship, she chickened out. Because, deep down, she knew it could end their friendship. And she wasnât ready for that.
So when Carrieâs eyes were caught by the amazon lilies, just a few steps away, she moved toward them, still clutching the tulip. And as she stared at them, her favorite flower, she tried not to imagine Colin giving them to her. Or giving her any of these flowers instead of choosing someone else instead.
