Since Colin had met Annie, he’d 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 he’d give her when he told her. Somehow they had all seemed easier from back at the house when he’d 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, hadn’t noticed. When he had Annie on his mind, he rarely noticed anything else at all.
He stopped, however, when she’d made the comment about the roses. He considered them. “They’re pretty,” He said, “But maybe the red ones are more romantic?” He paused, “Or maybe that’s too cliché. I don’t wanna be too cliché. Maybe we should go with the white ones. I mean, a famous princess did like them … although, now I’m gonna think about how there were a bunch of these guys at her funeral. That’s kinda depressing.” He’d held one in his hand, but then he put it back. “So maybe not.”
He exhaled, frustrated. “None of these are perfect. It needs to be perfect.”
Hearing Carrie’s comment, Chase came up behind her and took the flower from her, turning it twice as he considered. “The white ones just make me think of that scene in Alice in Wonderland. You know, where they’re painting them? And if we take them to Alan’s house, he’ll probably just try to paint them anyway.”
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. “You’ve got to lighten up, man. Just go with your instinct. What do you think she’d like. After all, that’s the best way to choose? Right, Carrie?”
As he called over his shoulder, Carrie nodded her approval. “Yes, of course,” she said quietly, putting the white rose back where she’d found it. She didn’t know why she’d even agreed to come. Or, rather, she knew quite certainly why she’d agreed to come. What she didn’t 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. “Audrey Hepburn adored white tulips,” she said quietly. “Or so I’ve heard.”
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, she’d googled types to give a woman before Colin picked her up. But, still, even her meager knowledge wasn’t helping. Because she wasn’t Annie. And it seemed that would always be the problem.
Colin said he wanted Annie but did he really? Each time he’d tried to take the next step and tell her how he felt, he’d found some reason not to. Though Carrie was guilty of almost the same. Each time she’d 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 wasn’t ready for that.
So when Carrie’s 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.
