Page 63 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

I let her see everything.

“No rushing,” I said. “Let’s build slow. So it lasts.”

She let out a breath like she’d been holding it all night. “Slow sounds… nice.”

I kissed her temple. “We’re not racing anyone.”

She nodded, though her eyes drifted toward the far edge of the rooftop, beyond the garden beds, toward the hills that rolled endlessly east. That flicker of restlessness still lived in her—equal parts ambition and wonder.

“You’re thinking about the next thing,” I said.

She gave me a sheepish smile. “Maybe. A little. It’s just… this garden is more than I dreamed, and now I’m dreaming bigger. Does that make me greedy?”

“No,” I said without hesitation. “It makes you you.”

Her smile widened.

“You want the moon,” I said, brushing hair from her face. “I just want to be the guy who makes sure your ladder doesn’t wobble.”

She leaned into me, soft laughter vibrating through both of us. “And what do you want, Dr. Cole?”

I hesitated. “I think I used to want to be extraordinary.”

“And now?”

“Now I want ordinary moments with someone who makes them feel extraordinary.”

She went quiet at that, and I didn’t press her. Some feelings are better left suspended between heartbeats.

We stayed like that, dancing in silence as the celebration behind us swirled on—our small world carved out under the stars, full of laughter, healing, and everything still unwritten.

But the next morning, everything shifted again.

I was still in bed, stretching toward the scent of coffee drifting in from the kitchen, when I heard Ruby gasp. Sharp, delighted. The kind of sound that said something big just landed.

I padded into the front room, shirt half-buttoned, hair a mess.

She stood barefoot by the door, a sleek white envelope in one hand, the other clamped over her mouth.

“What is it?” I asked.

She looked up, eyes wide as sunlight. “It’s from the State Botanical Council.”

“That sounds… official.”

“It is.” She held up the envelope. “They’re inviting me to showcase my floral work at the Tri-State Bloom & Design Showcase next month. It’s huge. Like... life-changing huge. Only ten designers in the region get picked.”

I stared at her, caught between pride and something that felt a lot like awe. “You’re one of them.”

“I guess I am.” Her voice cracked. “Damien, this could open so many doors.”

I crossed to her slowly. “You going to walk through them?”

Her mouth parted, but she didn’t answer.

Not yet.

Chapter seventeen

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