and fell at opposite ends of the spectrum, waging a war for her heart.
“I’m not sure what to say.” She wound floral tape around the roses and added some carnations and hydrangeas.
He sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. “I wish I was there to talk to you about this in person. I know it’s hard over the phone. But I’m dying here.”
Avoiding his gaze, Eva plunged some viburnum berries and paua shells willy-nilly into the emerging bouquet.
“Look, I understand you might need time, but can we at least get on the same p—”
“You know, Marc, I really should be going.” He had been right at the lake. She was a chicken. “I’ve got to focus on these flowers.”
His features hardened for a moment. “I care about you, Eva. As a friend. And more. There, I said it.” The desire in his voice . . . Oh man, she was in trouble. “If you need time, I get it. I’ll wait as long as you need me to. You’re worth it to me. But if you don’t feel the same way, please just let me know.”
The problem was, she did.
But alongside those emotions, the pressing weight of guilt nearly crushed her.
Sure, she might like Marc. A lot.
But could she ever love him like she’d loved Brent?
Did she even want to?
Eva kept her fingers busy as her mind raced. “I really don’t know how I feel. You’re my friend, and I don’t want to lose you. But . . .” She couldn’t finish. What would she say?
After a few moments of silence, he sighed. “I guess I’ll let you go then.”
“Marc . . .”
“It’s fine, Eva.” He paused. “Good luck with the flowers.”
After a hurried goodbye, she looked down at the bouquet in her hands—and her mouth fell open.
It was gorgeous. Like, magazine-worthy.
“Oh, Brent. I’m so sorry.”
As if the flowers were on fire, she flung them across the room and allowed the sobs racking her body to come.
23
It was hard to believe the ultra-marathon was in six weeks.
Angela increased her speed as she and Eva ran the same loop they did multiple times a week. Her stamina and endurance had grown exponentially since arriving in New Zealand two months ago, though she was still far from the athlete she’d been in high school. Maybe she would never be that fast again, but that was all right.
She’d come to crave their daily training, whether it was a flat course around the lake like now or running the hills in more remote parts of the South Island. The high of completing a marathon had only served to boost Angela’s addiction to the hours they spent on the trail. And other than a bit of flagging irritation in her right knee, her body had grown strong. Calluses had formed in the place of blisters, and Vaseline was her best friend against chafing whenever it became an issue.
In many ways, Angela had been reborn. Those moments when she ran, she felt more like herself than she had in years.
Eva and Angela passed a young couple standing next to the lake, the girl lifting a single red rose to her nose, the guy obviously trying to figure out a way to go in for a kiss. Then a couple with white hair and weathered skin strolled past them hand in hand. The woman laughed at something the man said, and ten years seemed to drop from her face.
“Brent always said people must have Valentine’s Day on the brain as soon as February begins.” The words fell flat from Eva’s lips.
“Oh, right, it’s the first, huh?” Would Simon want to do something together for Valentine’s? Her heart pitched at the thought.
“Let’s go faster.” Eva didn’t wait for Angela to answer, just took off running at nearly breakneck speed past the older couple.
What in the world?
Angela hurried to keep pace. Eva had seemed quiet all weekend, hiding out in her room on Saturday, begging off of their planned hike yesterday, and finally emerging with bags under her eyes today. Sherry had mentioned Eva had stayed up late at the florist shop last Thursday helping out the owner, but that was four days ago. And something about Eva’s rigid stance and droopy lips spoke of an ailment far beyond lack of sleep.
She had the urge to ask Eva what was wrong, but even after living under the same roof for two months, the sisters-in-law just weren’t that close.
And whose fault is that?
Inwardly, Angela groaned. Eva had made several