Lured into Love (Blossom in Winter #2) - Melanie Martins Page 0,12

love is the exact definition of happiness, and my mouth starts watering at the delicious smell of the sautéed mushrooms Maria is now putting on my plate. Ah… what a beautiful day to be alive.

After lunch, Emma, fully empowered in her new role as the event planner, goes around the terrace, taking pictures and jumping from call to call to prepare the decor and setting. Meanwhile, Cynthia brings me my iPhone so I can check all the emails and messages I’ve missed. To my surprise, I find many unread texts from my group at Columbia, and in particular from Matthew: Prof Chilnisky told us you got into an accident and are in a coma. I hope one day you will wake up and see this. Columbia is not the same without you. We miss you so much, Petra. Please call me once you see this. That one is dated all the way back in March.

Then another one from him, this time for Easter: Happy Easter!!! I know you are still in a coma, but if you ever wake up, I want you to know you are in our thoughts. The group had lunch at my place, since a lot of restaurants are closed due to the current pandemic. But in your memory, we tried matcha lattes with seven spoons and soy milk just like you like. I must say, though, it’s absolutely disgusting (sorry). But hey, at least Sarah loves it! Xx

Oh boy, I crack a laugh imagining him tasting a matcha latte for the first time. What a pity I wasn’t there to see it.

Then another text—this one, though, is really long:

Well, today I just took my last exam. With the current pandemic, we’re doing everything online. And we didn’t even know if the exams would ever take place. It was such a big mess. I swear, what a terrible time to be alive. You’re kinda lucky that you don’t have to witness any of this. The mood is pretty bad, everyone is kinda depressed. Suicide rates are skyrocketing. Our group is having some friction, and Katrina and Sarah had the biggest fight ever because of the face coverings. Anyway, sorry for the rant, but I miss talking to you. I hope one day you will see my messages and call me.

Wow. My heart feels tight as I finish reading his text. Scrolling farther down, I notice that Matthew kept sending me many, many more messages, the latest one sent just a week ago. Without waiting any longer, I press the FaceTime button and call him.

My anxiety grows as I wait for him to accept my call.

Oh! Finally! “Hey, good afternoon, Mr. Bradford,” I tease with the biggest grin.

“WHAT?!” he screams, before covering his mouth. As I wave at him, I see him getting overly emotional and his eyes watering. He starts sniffling, looking up to prevent tears. “Thanks for the messages,” I tell him. “They were really amazing. I felt like I was still there with you guys.”

After breathing in and out, and getting used to seeing my face, Matthew gives me one of his goofy laughs. “Good afternoon, Ms. Van Gatt,” he jokes back. It feels amazing to see him again. He looks happier, heck, even tanner, like he just came from vacation or something. “I can’t believe you’re finally awake. I’m so sorry I didn’t visit you, but with the current pandemic, like, I didn’t think it would’ve been prudent.”

“Don’t worry, I understand. How are things with the group? Is everyone alright?”

“Yeah, things were a bit tense, ya know, some arguments here and there, but friendship always wins,” he confesses. “I haven’t seen David or Katrina all summer. I think they went back to their home states to visit their families.”

“Are they coming back to New York for this semester?”

“Yeah, they should be flying back next week. Very few people managed to get a dorm room, ya know. They got very lucky. Campus this year is pretty much closed. Most people are staying in their home states and will do everything online,” he says.

“Oh, wow. And Sarah, how is she?”

“She’s great. We went to Hawaii for my dad’s birthday. We stayed there all summer. You don’t see my tan?”

I laugh at Matthew’s failed attempts to try different angles of light that will enhance his bronzed skin. “Yeah. You look great,” I tell him. “Look, um, the first day of classes is the eighth. What if we meet at my place on Park Avenue and we attend