Page 85 of Picking Daisies on Sundays

Hi Levi. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to apologize for throwing Paris on you like that, you didn’t deserve that. I should’ve included your opinion in my decision because that’s what a friend would do. But honestly, it wasn’t a decision I thought I would agree to, it was spur of the moment. But that’s not what this letter is about. What I really wanted to apologize for was lying to you this past month.

Being your friend has hurt as much as it did in high school, because friends aren’t supposed to love each other romantically. And I do. I love you. I love the sound of your voice when you’re worried. And I love the way your hair always looks so stupidly perfect, even when it’s messy. And I love the way you make me feel; like my heart is about to take off down a runway before catching air. I love it all. But I know how you felt in high school, and I don’t expect that to change.

So yes, I’m leaving again, and I’m sorry for not being strong enough in this friendship to suppress my feelings for you. But I can’t look at you any other way. And I can’t be there to watch you fall in love again, because it may just

kill me.

I’m sorry. I’ll send Sarah and Jeff a wedding gift and explain why I can’t come.

Love, Daisy.

I spared him the details of seeing him kissing someone at Senior Prom and watching him gaze at Bella. He didn’t need the details of my unrequited love. The kiss we shared when Bella wasn’t there and the name of his book still left question marks floating in my head, but bread making was a phenomenal way to push those aside.

Mom was on her flight to London now while Mandy was out at the farmer’s market picking up groceries. She said she’d be home soon, but I know for a fact that the cucumber vendor will be there today, and Mandy likes to talk his ear off. Tonight, we were cooking rigatoni with this lemon sauce and—

Ding dong.“ONE SECOND, MANDY!”

I rinsed the flour off my hands, and jogged to the door.

“How was the—,” I stopped short as I swung the door open and found Levi standing there. Standing on my doorstep. Disheveled brunette hair, black rimmed glasses, and a look on his face that could only be described as someone who had a lot to say but didn’t know where to start.

“Oh, I thought you were Mandy,” I said, like an idiot, because what else was I supposed to say?Hi, did you get my ridiculous letter?

He held his hand up, showing me a letter—my letter—and it looked as if it had been folded and unfolded numerous times.

“What is this?” he asked, his face indifferent as he waited for my response.

“An apology.”

He exhaled in frustration. “1. I told you that you never owe me an apology. 2. I almost showed up at your house at 4 AM because I have read this over and over and over and it still doesn’t make sense.” He was fuming.

“Which part?”

“All of it! The part where you say you can’t be around me; the part where you said you have to leave this friendship for the same reason four years ago; the part where you say you love me andare going to leave.As if I’d be alright with that!” His brows were shaped with concern and sadness and frustration, and his cheeks were flushed from shouting. His chest was filling and releasing with air, empty without the words that spilled out.

“Just forget it, forget that I wrote anything,” I shook my headflustered, walking back into the house. I didn’t want to have this embarrassing conversation where we talked about my feelings. Levi followed, shutting the door.

“What is it then! Do you love me or not?” he asked with frustration.

“Don’t,” I spun around, equally as upset. Why was he making me relive this letter, this decision? “Don’t make me say it again. I don’t need a repeat of prom night.”

Levi froze. “What are you talking about?”

I stopped on the other side of the living room. NowIwas fuming. “Are you kidding? You don’t remember? You don’t remember when I told you I love you—”

“What are you talking about!”

“I told you I loved you!I told you I loved you and then you ignored me and went off and kissed some other girl!” I was so livid that I didn’t even care if I sounded irrational. I had imagined this conversation in my head for years, and not a single instance included Levi not remembering.

He stared at me in shock. “I didn’t know that you loved me.”

I laughed at his response. “You didn’t know?I spilled my whole heart out to you!”

Now he was upset. “You weredrunk. You were on the floor crying so much that you didn’t care that the dress you designed was getting dirty. You were covered in tears and couldn’t stand when I lifted you up. You kept ranting to me about how Jeremiah left early and how badly you neededJeremiah. I didn’t forget a word you said to me that night. But when you told me that you loved me, I thought those words were forhim, not for me. And then you got upset at me, wouldn’t talk to me, and wouldn’t let me drive you home. I assumed you hated me for being overbearing, so I gave you space. But then I spent weeks calling and texting and knocking on your door, and you refused to speak to me.”

My insides were twisting and crumpling like pieces of thrown-out fabric. “But I saw you kissing Cora,” I said with confusion.

“Because I had just listened to you cry over Jeremiah! I never thought you felt anything for me.”