Page 119 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

I raised a brow. “Unless it’s a giant espresso and ten new pairs of hands, I might cry.”

He chuckled and sat beside me. “No espresso. But I do have this.”

He revealed a small wooden plaque. My breath caught as I read the inscription:

For Ruby Shea—who made hearts bloom.

The engraving was elegant, simple, and impossibly powerful. It took me a moment to find words. “Damien…”

“I know it’s not much. But I wanted something here to always remind people—me included—that this center didn’t grow from blueprints or budgets. It grew from your heart.”

Tears stung my eyes. “It grew from both of us.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off, but I could see the emotion he was fighting to contain. “Maybe. But you taught me how to plant seeds instead of just control the soil.”

Without thinking, I reached for his hand and laced our fingers together. “You changed everything, Damien. Not just the center. Me.”

“Funny,” he murmured, brushing a thumb along my knuckle, “I was just about to say the same thing.”

The garden fell quiet for a moment, as if the world itself paused to let the two of us exist in this soft, soul-deep hush.

And then I kissed him.

It wasn’t planned, or perfect, or anything that would end up in a fairytale. But it was ours. Sweet, tearful, and kissed with the scent of rosemary and earth. We kissed under the garden arch as sunlight danced through the leaves and the wind chimes sang their gentle tune.

“Promise me something,” I whispered against his lips.

“Anything.”

“When the grand opening chaos is over, we plant a cherry blossom tree right here.”

He smiled. “You mean in our garden of chaos and cookies?”

“Exactly. Something that outlives every storm.”

He kissed me again, and for the first time in years, I felt wholly, completely rooted.

Chapter thirty-two

Damien

I spotted him before Ruby did—leaning casually against the lemonade table like he belonged there. Nathan. The kind of man who looked like he’d walked off a cologne ad: tousled hair, button-down rolled just right at the sleeves, and that golden-boy smirk that made you instinctively check your collar for wrinkles.

“Let me guess,” I said under my breath as I walked up behind Ruby. “He played guitar in college and made everyone cry at bonfires?”

Ruby didn’t turn around. Her shoulders shook with a laugh. “Only the ones who fell for him.” Then she added, with a teasing glance over her shoulder, “Which I didn’t. Not really.”

Not really.

I arched a brow, stepping closer to her side, my hand brushing against hers. She didn’t pull away. That small contact grounded me more than I cared to admit.

Nathan noticed. His smile didn’t falter, but there was a flash of recognition in his eyes—a subtle flicker of ‘ah, so this is the guy.’

“You must be Damien,” he said, extending a hand.

I shook it firmly. “You must be Nathan. I’ve heard things.”

Ruby made a strangled sound that might’ve been a laugh or a groan. Probably both.

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