9

9

Sam

A big gesture, my brother said. Not some small thing. A huge gesture to impress the panties right off her. His words, not mine.

I’m hopeful a dozen red roses and a card professing not only my love for her, but my lifelong crush on her is enough to win her back. If this isn’t a big enough gesture to show her how much I care, I don’t what is. Guys aren’t always great at admitting they’re sorry when they’re wrong, but Amelia is the one for me and there’s no way I’m going to let her slip through my fingers.

If I have to get down on my hands and knees to prove my long-term love for Amelia, damn, I’ll do it.

I check my watch and once it’s past ten o’clock, I know she’ll be receiving the flowers from the delivery driver at any time.

What if she doesn’t acknowledge the apology? What if she thinks I was too harsh with my mistrust?

As hundreds of scenarios play out in my overactive brain, my phone pings with a text.

Amelia: Thank you.

Sam: You’re welcome.

Amelia: The flowers are beautiful, and your note was sweet. I had no idea!

Sam: I mean every word. I’m sorry.

Amelia: I’m hoping to get a kiss at the top of the Empire State Building.

Sam: You got it.