Page 44 of The One You Want

Chapter Ten

After hauling in all the new things she’d bought for her bedroom at the cute Carmel boutiques, Rose spent the late afternoon redecorating her old bedroom, because she really did want to visit more often. She’d gotten caught up doing the room makeover and needed to hurry up and finish getting ready for the bachelorette party. She slipped her feet into her wedge sandals and checked herself in the full-length standing mirror in the corner of her bedroom. They looked great with her navy blue jumpsuit.

Her phone buzzed with another incoming text.

She immediately smiled and assumed it was Gray. He’d sent her three other texts today, all of them saying the same thing as the one she read now.

GRAY:I’m still thinking about you.

She’d never had a guy this sweet and charming in her life. For her, it took a little getting used to, but she really liked it.

She stood in front of the mirror, held up her phone, took a picture of herself, and sent it to Gray.

ROSE:Ready for the bachelorette party!

GRAY:All I see is a beautiful woman and a bed. Not fair.

GRAY:I wish I was going out with you tonight.

ROSE:I’ll see you tomorrow. Unless you’re too hungover.

GRAY:Nothing will keep me away from you.

She grinned and turned to face the room that now looked like a tranquil retreat, with the new white comforter that had an oversized sprig of long, thin leaves down the center and the matching pillow shams propped against the wood headboard. She’d exchanged old posters on the walls for silver-framed botanical prints of sprigs of leaves. She liked the fern one the best. Directly above her headboard was the only other bit of color she’d added to the room. She’d scored a large painting of pink roses in bloom on a white background.

The whole space felt simple. Elegant. And with the right touch to put her stamp on this room. What once felt like a cell now felt like a place she’d like to visit.

They were simple changes, but they made all the difference.

“What the hell is this?” Her sister stood in the doorwayholding the painting Rose had left outside Poppy’s bedroom door.

Earlier she’d peeked inside Poppy’s room and found it stark and devoid of comfort or personality, nothing to reflect the woman who occupied it.

No mementos from the past. Not a single photo. Nothing of the old Poppy.

She’d gotten rid of everything but her clothes and furniture, sending up a huge red flag for Rose, who tried to find a smile for her sister, but couldn’t. Not when Poppy stood there, defiant and angry and broken.

“It’s a gift. For you. I thought you might like it.”

Being named after flowers made them tend to gravitate toward their floral equivalent. Rose loved roses. Who didn’t, really? Poppy loved poppies of all colors. But her favorites were the pink ones, because they were less commonly seen.

They had once both loved pink.

“Why would you get me a gift?”

“Because I love you.” It felt so good to say it, even if it made Poppy sneer at her.

“Bribing me isn’t going to change the way I feel about you.”

“I know. But it’s not a bribe. It reminds me of when we were kids... It’s one of my favorite memories.”

“What?” Poppy’s incredulous tone didn’t mask the hope Rose saw in her eyes.

“You remember. When we were little, you used to draw me roses and I’d draw you poppies.” Rose went to her desk and pulled out several pieces of paper in all different sizes, all withpink roses on them. “You were always a better artist than me.” She held them out so Poppy could see them.

Her eyes went wide, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “You kept those?”

“I wish I’d kept more of them. Remember how mad Dad would get that we’d ask for more boxes of crayons because we needed a new pink one?”