“It’s nice to see you too, Mrs. Thompson.” Drew glanced at me. “Six for each of us?”
I nodded, suddenly overwhelmed by the idea of the old tradition. Why did this night seem so monumental?
We carried our bouquets to a quieter spot along the riverbank, away from the densest part of the crowd but close enough to watch others participate. An older couple stood nearby, the husband helping his wife with shaking hands. A group of teenagers laughed hard as they tossed their flowers in unison then the blooms scattered across the dark water like stars. Lanterns strung along the bridge cast golden pools of light on the water. The air smelled of the river, grass, and the lingering sweetness of doughboys from earlier.
Drew held out a flower to me. “Who’s your first one for?”
A name came to mind right away. “My Auntie Betty. For always seeing me.” I released the bloom into the water. The current caught it immediately, spinning in lazy circles before carrying it downstream.
When I turned back, Drew’s expression was serious. He held his flower up and murmured, “For Dad and my ancestors. For building something worth being a part of.” Then he tossed it into the river.
We continued like that, taking turns. I sent one for Martha, Goldie, Gladys, and Glamma—for giving me a sweet bunch of grandma’s I didn’t know I needed. Drew sent one for each of his siblings, and another for a cousin of his who was struggling.
Then we were down to the last flower each. The crowd had thinned slightly now that the initial rush was over. I looked at Drew, waiting to see if he was thinking what I was thinking.
He spun the stem between his fingers, not looking at me. “I keep thinking about earlier. That this feels less fake every day.”
My pulse kicked up. “Me too.”
“I need you to know …” He stopped, jaw working. “I can’t stop thinking about it because it’s not true anymore.”
I held my breath.
“This doesn’t feel fake at all, Ellie. Not even a little.” His eyes found mine, vulnerable and steady at once. “And that terrifies me because I don’t know if I can give you what you deserve. My schedule is insane. The expansion is going to get more intense before it gets better. I’m scared I’ll let you down.”
He was afraid. Just like me.
“I’m scared too,” I admitted, the words tumbling out. “I’m freaking out, actually. Of being second again. Of not mattering enough. Of falling for someone who’ll realize I’m too much work or not worth the effort.” My voice dropped to barely a whisper. “But I think I’m falling anyway.”
His breath caught, his chest barely lifting.
It felt like everything around us was changing. Yet, the river continued its eternal flow. Someone laughed in the distance. A child squealed. Life continued while we stood suspended in this moment.
“I don’t want this to end,” Drew said, and there was something raw in his voice. “Whatever this is between us—I don’t want it to be temporary. I know we started as fake. I know we live hours away from each other, but …” He looked down at the flower in his hand, then back at me. “I’m falling in love with you, Ellie. I don’t know when it happened or how to do this right, but I know I don’t want it to stop.”
Tears pricked at my eyes. My emotions were overwhelming, but one surfaced to the top above all the others. I had to tell him what I felt. “I’m falling in love with you, too.” The admission felt like jumping off a cliff and growing wings all at the same time—terrifying and exhilarating. “I tried telling myself it was too fast, too risky, but I’m starting to believe we’ve been leading up to this moment since we first started talking three months ago.”
He reached for my hand, threading our fingers together. “So what do we do?”
“We try,” I said simply. “We try to figure this out.”
We stood there, hands clasped, each holding a flower to our chest. The symbolism wasn't lost on me—separately holding our own wishes, but connected in the middle.
“Together?” Drew asked, lifting his flower.
“Together,” I agreed.
I closed my eyes as Drew did the same and made my wish—I wish that whatever is between us doesn’t end.I’m falling in love with Drew, and I want to be brave enough to see where this goes.
When I glanced over, he was staring at me with the sweetest crooked grin.
Our eyes met, and something passed between us—recognition, promise, hope.
We walked a few steps to the water’s edge, our shoulders brushing, and on an unspoken count, we released our flowers simultaneously. They hit the water side-by-side, bobbing for a minute before the current caught them, and I swear I saw another glint of crimson touch the water.
Instead of drifting apart, though, they spun in a circle, their stems tangling together as the river carried them downstream. We watched until they disappeared around the bend.
Drew’s arm encircled my waist and he pulled me against his side. I leaned into him, letting his warmth chase away the evening chill.
