Picking Daisies on Sundays (Picking Daisies on Sundays, #1)

by Liana Cincotti

It was a painting of a pale, well-dressed woman. She wore a voluminous dress that overtook her plush chair; seated at a desk in front of a window, she clutched flowers and a note. It breathed of sunlight; each color used in the painting had a yellow or orange hue. Reading the plaque on the wall, it said: Love Letters by Jean Honoré Fragonard. “Why?” He hesitated for a moment. “When I look at it, all I see is you.”

I was always nervous that if I shared the unkind words people threw at me, then that was all they’d associate me with. That they’d begin to notice that my skin was too blemished, or that the clothes I made were too cliché, or that I did dress like a seventy-year-old woman who’d given up on life. If I were to tell them what others said, then that’s all they’d see.

real

Intimacy was to be seen by you; free falling was to be touched by you

“Everywhere we go, people are infatuated by you, looking at you and yearning to talk to you. I …” He paused for a long moment. “I am infatuated by you.”

IT’S GIVING MR DARCY “I… I LOVE YOU”

I tried to stop loving you, but along the way, you found your way into the sound of my laugh, the style of my writing, and the threads of my clothes

“I’ll buy you flowers every day for the rest of my life if it makes you this happy.”

“I want to be noticed in a crowded room. I want to be the only person in a crowded room. I want to be wanted, truly wanted, and desired. I want to laugh and to sing and to dance with someone and not feel self-conscious over it because I love them and I’m confident that they love me. I want to be touched and kissed and held because I’ve forgotten what it feels like … and yet, I think I deserve it.”

And suddenly, I fell

Picking Daisies on Sundays.”

STOP HIS BOOK IS NAMED AFTER HER IM CRYING

I tried to stop loving you, but along the way, you found your way into the sound of my laugh, the style of my writing, and the threads of my clothes / I would’ve gone down on my knees just to hear you say yes

WAIT STOP WEVE BEEN READING HIS POEM IN E CHAPTER INTROS

Glances, gazes, eyes following places they shouldn’t have seen / intimacy was to be seen by you; free falling was to be touched by you / there was no such thing as a crowded room where you stood She lives in between the pinks and yellows of the world / where a beautiful color is unknown to others / and when she speaks, I become a bee enthralled in a field of daisies

THAGTS WHY HE ASKED IF SHE HAD READ THE BOOK WHEN SHE METIONED SE WANGED TO BR SEEN IN A CROWDED ROOM

​“I love you more than my heart can physically handle.”

Flowers were growing in my heart and sprouting through my chest. He loves me.

i love how this book describes the feeling of love

“I’ve never felt this conscious of the beat of my heart before, it was like it was sleeping without you,” he whispered.

My skin radiated with the warmth of their love. Happiness and joy riddled my smile and hurt my cheeks. The only person that wasn’t here, was watching from above. And I was confident that he’d be so proud of me. I was so proud of me.

YESSS

He admitted that the two rings he wore every day as a set weren’t meant to be worn together. ​“I bought this for you for graduation; it matched the gold earrings you wore all the time.” Obviously, we weren’t speaking at the time, so he wore mine too.

HE HAD HER WITH HIM ALL THIS TIME

A thousand flower petals falling to the bottom of my stomach. ​“That sounds perfect.” ​“Ready to go home?” he asked. ​“With you, always.”