The Perfect Petal greenhouse sits at the edge of the property, half-tucked behind a row of oak trees. The glass panes fog with humidity from the late afternoon heat.
I’ve always loved greenhouses. The smell, the humidity, all the growth tucked inside.
Bennett is two rows over, swearing at a broken drip line. His forearms are tanned from our hours spent on the golf course. His muscles flex as he tightens the valve, and I keep peeking at him, smiling to myself. We’ve been tugging at the invisible string between us lately, and I need to tell him the truth about Leia before it goes too far. As much as I love this flirtatious game we’re playing, it will end the moment he knows the truth.
“It’s nice to see things get to you,” I call, leaning my hip along the table.
He glances over his shoulder, the start of a smile tipping his lips. “You should be familiar with that version of me.”
I ditch the plants and walk the two rows to him. “Oh?”
Again, another glance, but then he concentrates on the hose. “Let’s not pretend, shall we?”
Memories flood of how just one look would have me pressed against a wall or strewn across the kitchen table. I still feel the weight of him pressing me into the mattress. My core clenches when I remember the feel of his intensity. I never questioned how much he wanted me. It always lined his face.
I sit on the stool nearby. “They were good times.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, and this time, his eyes don’t lift in my direction.
I watch him work for a second, the truth I know I need to reveal to him pressing down on me. I open my mouth to tell him we need to talk, to ask him to meet me away from work, maybe go on a walk. Somewhere I won’t be stranded since I’m sure I’ll be the last person he wants to be around after I confess.
“I’m sorry,” he says before I can speak. “I made the wrong choice.”
I hop off the stool. “It’s ancient history.”
The hose hits the floor, and his hand wraps around my wrist, brushing the infinity symbol over the inside of my wrist with this thumb. But there’s no infinity in our world anymore, he just doesn’t know it.
“Please… I need to apologize.”
Still not facing him, I shake my head. “It’s so long ago. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. Please… just look at me.”
I slowly circle around, and he turns my palm up, continuing to run figure eights around my inner wrist.
“I knew I made a mistake the minute we got to Willowbrook. Our marriage was broken after she slept with Jon, and a baby wasn’t going to repair that. I’d fallen in love with you all over again, and Kristie knew it, although she never asked me.”
I open my mouth, but he steps closer.
“I’m not sure where I can fit into your life right now, but I’ve spent the last seven years pretending to mourn a marriage that wasn’t real anymore. God, I was so scared when I saw you in Lottie’s yard that night. You coming back blew it all up, reminded me of the lie I was living. And?—”
“Don’t. You don’t have to tell me any of this. I moved on. It’s over.” I move to turn, and he steps forward.
“I’m trying to tell you how much I regret my decision. That it should’ve been you I picked. I would’ve made it work with Wren, and you wouldn’t be where you are right now.”
I draw back, pulling my arm away from his and crossing my arms. “Is that what this apology is about? You feeling like you’re to blame for the life’s mess?”
Anger stirs to life inside me, like a rattlesnake ready to lash out. I don’t need him to take the blame, as if I didn’t choose Sean myself.
“Had I stayed?—”
“You didn’t though.” Tears threaten to break through, but I suck them back. I will not show him how much that affected me.
“Exactly, and I’m telling you I regret it.”
“So, what? You want my forgiveness?” I bow. “Granted.” I turn around to leave.
“Fuck, Delaney, I’m trying here.”
