angelic_violets
"I chased you all the way down the block to give you this," the handsome man wheezes, a hand on his chest as he fights to catch his breath. Raina smiles, taking her suede clutch purse from him as he outstretched it.
"Thank you so much," she murmured, voice tinged with earnest gratitude.
"You just spilled wine all over my dress!" the older women shrieked, wrinkled features contorted into a frown, eyes brimming with unleashed anger.
Ashley winced, immediately reaching for a handful of napkins from a nearby table. "I'm so sorry, ma'am. Here, let me help you."
John turned the page, expecting more words, hoping for further explanation...but it was blank. Naomi reached for him, a gentle hand on his back. "You okay?" she asks, tone laced with concern.
"Not really," he breathes softly. "I just thought...I don't know, after all this time, I'd have some proof that my dad actually gave a damn about what I went through. But I guess that was just wishful thinking."
"Honey," Jake murmured as he pulled Serena into his lap. "What do you think I should do?"
"I think you should do what your heart tells you," she replied without hesitation, leaning her forehead against his.
He felt a chuckle breeze past his lips. "You're my heart, Re. So, what do you think I should do?"
At that, Serena tipped her head back, smiling sweetly. "I'm supposed to give you sound advice after you just said the most romantic thing ever? You're a menace, Mr. Griffin."
"And you love it, Mrs. Griffin."
"Carrot cake?" Anna asked, nose crinkling. "I think I'm the only black person in the world that doesn't eat that."
Michael chuckled, a deep and rich sound, making the butterflies in her stomach flap a little harder. "That makes two of us, actually. Though I'll gladly down a tub of cream cheese frosting if it came down to it."
Anna giggled. "Yeah, me too."
"As American as apple pie," the older man said with a chuckle, gesturing toward the field as the next Phillies batter walked up to the plate.
Amelia nodded politely, but once he turned the other way, she rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe this was her boss's idea of a free company trip. Sipping margaritas on the beach was so much more her style.
"Are you okay? You look like that dude from that one movie," Ariel commented, fixing Derek with a concerned stare.
"What movie?" he asked, not looking up from the computer.
"The movie where he's always hanging from the rafters," she replied, reaching for her phone. "Phantom of the Opera!"
"I don't think you've ever seen that one, Ari," Derek said with a laugh. "But to answer your question, yes. I'm good. Just trying to get this report in before the deadline."
"I don't think you understand me," Jamie remarked with an intense expression. "There's no way in hell that apricot jam is better than strawberry."
"I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree, love," said Andrew, grinning cheekily as he took another bite of toast.
The tall, copper spire with a crucifix on top told Eiise she was in the right place—St. Peter's Episcopal Church, where Terry had told her last night to meet at 7 o'clock sharp. Problem was, as she entered the sanctuary, no one was inside, not even a clergyman; had Terry gotten caught up and couldn't make it? Or worse...had he bailed on their deal?
"This quilt has been in my family for four generations," The old woman spoke, running a withered hand across the faded orange fabric. "It's said that whoever possesses it is guaranteed to find true love. And now, Mariella, I want you to have it."
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