Page 39 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

“Absolutely,” she says, smirking. “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” I say, shrugging as I set up at the corner table, spreading out my notes and planner.

Mia raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Does this sudden good mood have anything to do with a certain landscape architect?”

I roll my eyes but can’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. “We just… talked a little. That’s all. It feels like things aren’t as tense now.”

“Talked a little?” Mia repeats, her smirk growing. “That’s progress. I was starting to think you two were doomed to be enemies forever.”

“We were never enemies,” I protest, though I can’t deny that it felt that way at times. “It was just… complicated.”

“Well, whatever it was, I’m glad it’s over,” Mia says, tying a ribbon around the bouquet with a flourish. “Now you can actually enjoy working together.”

Enjoy might be a stretch, but as my laptop boots up, I realize she’s not entirely wrong.

When I arrive at the Holloway estate later that morning, Graham is already there, setting up equipment near the lake. The sun ishigh, casting a warm glow over the sprawling garden, and for the first time, I feel excited to begin the day’s work.

“Morning,” I say as I walk up, waving.

He glances over, his expression softening just slightly. “Morning.”

I set my bag down on the table we’ve been using as our makeshift workstation and pull out my planner. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Finishing the pathways,” he says, gesturing to the sketches on the table. “Then we can start mapping out the seating areas.”

“Perfect,” I say, grabbing a pen and flipping to the section of my planner dedicated to the layout. “Let’s get started.”

The hours pass in a blur of measuring tape, sketches, and quiet collaboration. Graham and I fall into an easy rhythm, bouncing ideas off each other and adjusting plans as we go.

There are still moments of silence, but they don’t feel heavy like before. Instead, they’re comfortable, the kind of quiet that comes with mutual understanding.

At one point, I catch myself glancing at him as he works, the way his hands move with careful precision as he carves out sections of the garden. He’s so focused, so in his element, and it’s hard not to admire the quiet intensity he brings to everything he does.

“What?” he asks, catching me staring.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, looking away as my cheeks heat. “Just… thinking.”

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press, returning his attention to his work.

By the time we wrap up for the day, the garden is starting to take shape, and I feel a renewed excitement for the wedding.

“Thanks for today,” I say as we pack up our supplies. “I think Riley will love how this is coming together.”

“Let’s hope so,” he says, wiping his hands on a rag.

As I climb into my car, I catch myself smiling again, the same lightness from this morning settling over me.

I’m not sure what’s happening between Graham and me, but for the first time, it feels like we’re moving in the right direction.

And as much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m starting to look forward to the parts of my day when I see him.

The sun is setting as I wander through Mia’s flower shop, cradling my phone against my ear while Claire, my assistant back in Manhattan, talks my ear off about a client request that’s spiraled into a minor crisis.

“I told her the centerpieces were already finalized, but now she wants to swap the peonies for orchids at the last minute,” Claire says, her frustration crackling through the line. “I mean, who does that?!”

“Orchids? For a gala?” I murmur distractedly, running my fingers along the delicate petals of a bouquet of lilies. “That’s ambitious.”

“You mean impossible,” Claire says flatly. “Sophie, what do you want me to do?”

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