I blinked at her, surprised—and more affected than I cared to admit. “I don’t usually accept bribes from florists.”

“Liar. Hazel told me you practically devoured that cherry tart she brought you last month.”

“She blackmailed me with it. Different situation.”

She shrugged, strolling further in. “Well, this one comes with gratitude. You saved my shop. Again.”

I glanced at the flowers—bright, cheerful things. Sunflowers, daisies, tiny sprigs of rosemary tucked between. “You didn’t have to.”

She arched a brow. “Let me do the nice thing, Damien. I don’t do it often, but when I do, I go all in.”

I took the box and bouquet, nodding toward the back. “Come on. Porch’s quiet.”

We stepped out onto the back porch where two mismatched chairs faced the woods. The stars blinked above, unbothered by deadlines or decisions. She sat first, curling her legs beneath her like it was second nature, and I followed suit, more awkward in the motion.

We sat in silence for a beat, the only sound the occasional chirp of crickets and the creak of old wood beneath our chairs.

Then Ruby spoke, her voice softer than usual. “I was five when I planted my first flower.”

I glanced at her. Her gaze was distant, fixed on the trees.

“I stole a packet of daisy seeds from the hardware store,” she continued, her tone both guilty and proud. “I didn’t even know what daisies were, just that my mom used to wear them in her hair. After she passed, I remember sneaking into the backyard and digging into the dirt with a spoon.”

I stayed quiet, letting her words settle.

“I planted them right over where we’d buried her ashes. I didn’t even know what I was doing, just... needed to give her something. Something pretty. Something alive.” She gave a soft laugh. “Most of them didn’t grow. But one did. Just one. And I swore I’d never stop growing things after that.”

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. My throat had tightened, and there wasn’t a medical chart in the world that could explain it.

Ruby looked down at her hands, then turned them over and smiled faintly. “I know I’m a mess sometimes. Too loud. Too... much.”

“You’re not too much,” I said, before I even realized the words were out. “You’re... more than most people can handle. But that’s not a bad thing.”

Her gaze flicked to mine, searching. “Do you want to kiss me again?”

My breath hitched.

“Because I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.”

I leaned in slowly, letting the weight of her question anchor me to the moment. “More than anything.”

And then I kissed her.

It started slow. Careful. Like we both knew we were playing with something delicate. Her lips were soft, trembling slightly against mine, but the moment I deepened it, she leaned in with a quiet sigh, threading her fingers into my shirt collar and pulling me closer.

Her kiss was everything I hadn’t known I needed—wild and soft, fierce and aching. I lost myself in it. In her.

She pressed her forehead to mine, breath mingling with mine in the space between us. “Damien,” she whispered, like it was both a question and an answer.

I kissed her again, slower this time. “Stay with me tonight.”

She didn’t answer with words.

The clinic was silent as we stepped inside. The lights stayed off. Only the moon watched as the door clicked shut behind us.

—The next morning, I stood alone in my office, the dawn just beginning to color the edge of the window. A mug of cold coffee sat forgotten on my desk, and my phone glowed in my hand.

The email from St. David’s was still open. A single line blinked at the bottom, waiting for my reply.