Page 26 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

“I brought bribes,” she said, handing me a cup. “But clearly you’ve already spiraled into philosophical flower angst.”

I accepted the coffee with a huff and collapsed onto the stool by the wrapping table. “He reorganized the storage shelves by color and bloom life. Who does that?”

Hazel sipped her drink. “You’re stalling.”

“I’m venting.”

“You’re hiding.”

I scowled into the steam rising from my cup. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m… reflecting.”

Hazel pulled up the stool beside me and arched a brow in that way she always did when I was trying too hard to sound casual and not enough like someone halfway to emotionally unraveling.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admitted quietly. “He helped me rebuild this place. He didn’t just show up—he led the charge. He rallied the town. He saved things I didn’t even realize I needed saving from.”

Hazel leaned forward, voice gentle. “And?”

“And now I feel like I’m falling for him,” I said, eyes locked on the bouquet. “And I’m scared out of my freaking mind.”

She waited, saying nothing, just letting it hang in the air until I filled the silence with everything, I was too stubborn to say before.

“I’m scared because I’ve spent so much of my life proving I could do it on my own,” I said. “Survive on my own. Build this place from the ground up. Be chaotic and messy and creative and still enough. And now…”

“Now?” she asked softly.

“Now he walks in with his steady hands and annoying eyebrows and calm voice, and suddenly I feel like maybe I don’t want to do it all alone. And that terrifies me.”

Hazel’s face softened. “Ruby…”

I bit my lip. “What if I fall for him, and he leaves? What if I expect him to stay—and he doesn’t?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just reached for the bouquet in front of us, plucked a single eucalyptus stem, and spun it between her fingers like it held the answer.

“Maybe love isn’t about expectations,” she said at last. “Maybe it’s about showing up—even when it’s inconvenient. Even when it’s hard.”

I blinked at her. “That’s suspiciously wise.”

She grinned. “I’ve been binge-reading romance novels behind the register.”

I laughed—half sigh, half relief. “Of course you have.”

Hazel set the stem down and met my eyes again. “Look, I get it. You’ve been through enough to know that not everyone stays. But Damien? He didn’t have to come back. He didn’t have to fix anything. But he did. He chose to.”

I looked at the bouquet again, suddenly realizing something that hadn’t clicked until now.

Damien hadn’t rearranged the flowers for me. He’d rearranged them with me.

Like he wanted to be part of the chaos.

Not solve it.

I took a shaky breath and whispered, “So now what?”

Hazel smiled. “Now? You stop pretending you don’t care. And maybe, just maybe, you let yourself fall a little.”

I stared at the bouquet one last time before pulling it gently into my arms.

Because she was right.

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