Page 13 of Spring Fling

His fingers traced patterns on my arm. "It does. And I'll be right there cheering you on. No more Ariana nonsense. I'm done with the sponsor's fake storylines."

I smiled and snuggled closer. "Are you ready for the fallout? They won't be happy about losing their little love story."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "They'll get over it or they won't. I care about plants, not playing pretend romance for cameras. I can handle whatevercomes." His arms tightened around me. "Besides, I've got more important things to focus on now."

A warm feeling spread through me. Eventually, exhaustion took over, my eyelids getting heavy as I relaxed against him. Tomorrow would bring new challenges—that was certain. But tonight, we had this safe little bubble.

We drifted in and out of sleep, always wrapped in each other's arms. During one of those half-awake moments, I watched his peaceful face in the soft lamplight. Maybe I never needed my family's approval or my ex's validation. Maybe I didn't need to keep trying to prove myself to everyone else. Maybe I could rest into the belief that I was good enough just the way I am.

I kissed Hayden’s collarbone gently, his skin still a little damp from earlier. He mumbled something sleepily and pulled me closer as a tiny spark of hope lit up inside me.

Chapter Eight

Hayden

I stared into the mirror, razor in hand, reminding myself to take it slowly. My cheeks still felt warm from the memories of last night with Daisy, a flood of vivid recollections washing over me as I rinsed the blade. Water droplets slid across the porcelain sink at the Evergreen Inn. Outside my window, the early sunlight filtered through budding orchard branches, reminding me it was the final day of the Wintervale Spring Flower & Garden Market—the day they would award Best in Bloom.

Last night already felt almost unreal, a surge of connection and relief after days of chaos. Yet there I was the next morning, scraping away stubble and wrestling with a knot of anticipation. I had told Daisy I would meet her at the festival grounds, and I intended to keep that promise. First, though, I needed to deal with the fallout from the texts I had sent my publicist Marlene and Ariana: the ones I’d fired off right before I knocked on Daisy’s door and everything changed.

I turned off the faucet, droplets clinging to my face as I patted myself dry with a hand towel. My reflection in the mirror looked calmer than I had expected. After all, I had just walkedaway from a sponsor arrangement that could have turbocharged my “horticulture brand.” I had also walked away from a contrived romance storyline that might have permanently tarnished my reputation. A part of me wondered whether I had just tanked every future book opportunity. Oddly enough, none of that weighed on me nearly as much as it once had—because Daisy’s face was all I could see when I closed my eyes. That feeling of being with her, fully honest for the first time, was worth more than any corporation’s nod.

I ran my fingers through my still-damp hair, moving into the bedroom to get dressed. My phone lay face down on the nightstand, set toDo Not Disturbafter those final messages:

Marlene and Ariana:I’m done with the fake relationship storyline. Effective immediately. I’ll honor my lecture obligations but won’t participate in any staged couple appearances. Please respect my decision.

I had hammered out that text and then muted my phone, determined to focus on what truly mattered—finding Daisy and coming clean. The memory of her soft smile, her quiet acceptance, and the powerful connection we shared last night made me smile to myself as I buttoned up a plain cotton shirt. I felt no regret. Even if it angered the sponsors and cost me some future contract, it was worth it.

Fully dressed now, I lifted the phone and swiped my thumb across the screen. The notifications flooded in immediately: frantic bursts of texts and missed calls. My stomach twisted, but I had known this was coming.

I scanned the messages:

Marlene (8:57 PM):Hayden, you can’t be serious. Call me.

Marlene (9:10 PM):Are you ignoring me? Ariana is furious. Benton wants an explanation.

Marlene (9:45 PM):I tried calling. We must talk ASAP or you can kiss future deals goodbye.

…and so on, through ten texts total, plus six voicemails.

All were from Marlene. Ariana seemed to have gone quiet, perhaps leaving her publicist to do the talking. I glanced at the time—7:30 a.m. Not too early to return calls, and I wanted to handle it before meeting Daisy at the market. I steadied my nerves, pressed Marlene’s contact, and lifted the phone to my ear.

She picked up on the second ring. “Hayden!” Her voice was clipped and exasperated. “Finally. I’ve been trying to reach you since last night. What on earth happened? You can’t just walk away from a major promotional angle like that. We were counting on you.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, clearing a sudden tightness in my throat. “The ‘fake dating Ariana’ scheme is over. I shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place.”

“You gave us no warning,” Marlene shot back. “Do you realize the sponsor was counting on a second wave of coverage this morning? We had interest from three lifestyle magazines. Now you’re just done?”

“Yes,” I said. “I told you I was uncomfortable staging a romance. I can’t do it anymore.”

Marlene’s sigh crackled through the line. “We’re going to lose so much goodwill. Everyone from the network to Ariana’s manager is outraged. This might kill your future book deals. Ifthe publisher won’t fight for you after this, you’ll be looking at new representation.”

I swallowed. “That’s a risk I’ll take. I’ll find another publisher if I have to.”

Silence followed, thick with tension. “You realize how many people would kill to be in your position?” she asked finally.

“I do,” I replied, voice steadier than I felt. “But I’m not most people.”

A beeping noise interrupted her, and she paused. “I have another call—it’s Benton, the sponsor rep. Don’t hang up.” She switched me to hold before I could respond. I stared at the open doorway, recalling how the last time I’d seen Daisy was in that same hallway, full of warmth and promise. I clung to that thought. No regrets.

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