Page 124 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

I leaned into Damien’s side as he wrapped an arm around me.

“You think they’ll keep cheering when we forget to water the basil next week?” I whispered.

“Probably not,” he murmured back. “But they’ll forgive us.”

“Because we named the center after ourselves?”

He chuckled, low and warm. “Because we gave them something real.”

I looked out at the people gathered in our garden—smiling, hugging, celebrating.

We hadn’t just survived our storms. We’d grown something from them.

And the roots ran deep.

Chapter thirty-four

Damien

The rain had softened to a mist, like the sky had finally exhaled. The storm had come and gone, but everything felt cleaner, newer—like Cedar Springs had been washed and wrung out for something better.

Ruby stood beneath the garden arch, hair clinging to her cheeks, eyes shining like the first bloom of spring. The crowd around us buzzed in muddy joy, but I didn’t hear a thing past the sound of her quiet laugh and the echo of my own heart thudding in my chest.

I could’ve done this a thousand different ways. Flashier. Cleaner. Dry, for starters.

But none of those ways would’ve been us.

So, I did what felt right.

I dropped to one knee in the mud, right beneath the garden arch we built together from scratch. I felt my pant leg soak instantly, but I didn’t care. The rain had already claimed me—heart, soul, and wardrobe.

Ruby froze. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Damien…”

I didn’t give a speech. I’d said everything I needed to over the past months—in arguments about tulip placements and whispered kisses after midnight brainstorming sessions. In every fix-it task I took off her list. In every slow dance under the stars.

Instead, I gave her a promise.

“Let’s keep building,” I said. “Keep blooming. Through every storm, every surprise, every stubborn moment. Will you be my forever chaos?”

Her shoulders trembled. I couldn’t tell if she was crying or laughing or some fierce combination of both. Probably both.

She stepped closer, kneeling in the damp grass so we were eye to eye.

“Only,” she whispered, “if you’ll be my forever calm.”

Then she said the word I’d been waiting to hear since the first time I saw her trip over her own toolbox and sass me in the same breath.

“Yes.”

The moment burst like sunlight through fog.

Hazel let out a scream so loud birds scattered from nearby trees. Marge swayed once, dramatically, and dropped into a folding chair like she’d rehearsed a faint. Eleanor whipped out a fan that hadn’t been fashionable since 1952 and began waving it with theatrical flair.

Ruby kissed me, rain and laughter dripping off her lips. Around us, the crowd clapped and whistled, and someone shouted, “About time!”

I stood, pulling her with me, and wrapped my arms around her like I was never letting go.

“I love you,” I whispered, my voice cracking a little despite myself.

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