Page 25 of Love in Full Bloom

Six months have passed since that night when everything changed between us. Six months of discovering each other, of creating together, of learning how our different approaches to life can complement rather than conflict.

Carefully, I slip from beneath his arm, smiling when he mumbles something unintelligible before rolling onto his back. I pull on his discarded shirt and pad barefoot to the kitchen to start coffee. Through the windows of what is now our shared cabin, I can see the first hint of sunrise beginning to color the eastern sky.

Our garden calls to me. I grab my sketchbook and a mug of coffee and step outside into the cool morning air.

The transformation is breathtaking. What was once Ben's solitary project has become our joint creation—a living testament to what happens when function and form meet, when precision embraces spontaneity. I follow the stone path he designed, now softened by the wildflowers I encouraged to grow between the pavers. Queen Anne's lace nods in the gentle breeze, catching the first golden rays of sunlight like delicate prisms.

I settle on the bench beneath the flowering dogwood, the same spot where I first began to understand that Ben saw me—truly saw me—for exactly who I am. My sketchbook opens naturally to a half-finished drawing of the stream garden, our most successful collaboration.

Ben's architectural eye provided the bones—thoughtfully placed stones creating gentle pools, a small wooden bridge that seems to float above the water. My contribution was in the planting—allowing native species to thrive where they naturally wanted to grow, adding complementary wildflowers to enhance what was already happening. The result feels neither designed nor accidental, but perfectly, naturally right.

Like us.

"There you are."

I look up to find Ben walking toward me, hair still tousled from sleep, carrying two fresh mugs of coffee. The sight of him still makes my heart skip. Not just because he's undeniably handsome, but because of what he represents: acceptance, partnership, growth.

"Couldn't sleep," I explain, accepting the mug he offers. "Too excited about today."

He sits beside me, his thigh warm against mine. "Nervous?"

"A little," I admit. "It's a big step."

Today marks the opening of our joint exhibition at the botanical garden—"Structured Wild," a showcase of our collaborative work. My paintings of the garden's evolution hang alongside Ben's architectural renderings, showing how our creative visions have merged over the months. Outside, visitors will tour the actual gardens we've created together, seeing the physical manifestation of our artistic dialogue.

"They're going to love it," Ben says, his confidence in our work unwavering as always. "Just like I love you."

I lean against his shoulder, soaking in his certainty. "Remember when I was convinced you'd eventually get tired of my whimsical nature?"

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Remember when I thought my structured approach would bore you?"

"We were both so wrong." I turn to face him, taking in the features I've come to know as well as my own. The laugh lines around his eyes have deepened over the months, partly from our shared joy, partly from squinting in the sun as we work side by side in the garden. "You've taught me that structure creates the space for creativity to flourish."

"And you've shown me that wildness brings life to even the most carefully designed spaces." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch still sending electricity through me after all this time. "We're better together, Jasmine. In every way."

The sun crests the horizon fully now, illuminating our garden in golden light. We sit in comfortable silence, watching as the day awakens around us—bees beginning their work among theflowers, birds calling from the trees, dew sparkling on spider webs stretched between grasses.

"Do you remember the first time you brought me here?" I ask, setting my empty mug aside.

"How could I forget? You immediately saw what I was trying to create, even when it was barely started."

"And you understood my paintings when most people just saw pretty flowers." I smile at the memory. "We were recognizing each other before we even knew it."

Ben takes my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my palm in that way he knows makes me shiver. "I have something for you. Before we head to the exhibition."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, curious.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. My breath catches as he places it in my palm.

"It's not what you think," he says with a smile. "Not yet, anyway. Though that's coming too, when you're ready."

I open the box to find a delicate silver pendant—a wild rose intertwined with architectural lines that suggest a garden structure. It's us, captured in a single perfect design.

"Ben," I whisper, emotion making my voice catch. "It's beautiful."

"Turn it over."

On the back, a simple inscription:Where structure meets wilderness, love blooms.

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