Page 35 of Drop Dead Gorgeous

"You're not what I expected."

I wait.

"You act like you're made of gloom." She smiles gently. "But I don't think that's really it."

"No?"

"I think you've just been alone for a very long time."

I don't answer because there is nothing to dispute.

"I'm not very good at . . ." I gesture vaguely toward the meadow, the sky, the afternoon stretching comfortably around us. ". . . this."

She follows my hand before looking back at me.

"Being alive?"

I nod.

She shrugs with the easy confidence of someone who has made peace with uncertainty.

"I don't think anybody is. We all just keep practicing."

If only she knew how long I have been trying.

For several quiet minutes she weaves dandelions, violets, and clover into a crown, her fingers moving with practiced ease. When she's finished, she lifts it with quiet ceremony.

"Oh no," I say.

"Oh yes."

Before I can protest, she settles the crown gently onto my head.

"There."

She leans back to admire her work.

"King of the Wildflowers."

"I believe you've misunderstood how monarchies work."

"I make my own rules."

"I've noticed."

"You wear them well."

I reach up awkwardly toward the flowers.

"You should have it."

She shakes her head.

"No."

Her smile softens.

"You earned it."