Page 66 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

She raised a brow. “And why did you?”

I looked around the shop. At the battered counter, the crooked “Open” sign, the daisy doodle Damien had drawn on a sticky note weeks ago and stuck to the register.

“To make beauty feel reachable,” I said quietly. “To give people hope when they didn’t know they needed it.”

Eleanor smiled, satisfied. “Then you’ve already won something more important than a ribbon.”

I leaned my elbows on the counter, forehead resting on my arms. “I just feel like... Damien and I are growing in different directions. We used to talk about dreams and now we talk about deadlines. I don’t know how to fix that.”

She reached out and gently tugged a yellow ribbon from my hand.

“The trick to keeping a garden,” she said, “is knowing when to prune back... and when to just let things bloom wild.”

I lifted my head. “So... no clear answer?”

She chuckled. “There never is, darling. But if you love something—someone—you find a way to grow side by side. Even if you have to lean a little to stay in the light.”

I stared at her, those words settling into my chest with surprising comfort.

“Thanks, Eleanor.”

She patted my hand. “Now. Make some tea. Then remind that man of yours why he fell for a chaotic little wildflower in the first place.”

I grinned. “You mean sabotage his spreadsheets with peony petals?”

“Exactly.”

As she left, I looked down at my mess again—only now it didn’t feel quite so overwhelming.

Maybe we were just going through a season. Not the end of us. Just a little shade before the bloom.

The garden was quiet in that golden hour where everything felt suspended—like the day was taking a long, slow breath before tucking itself into twilight. I walked beside Damien along the winding path we’d helped shape together, our hands brushing but not quite laced, the silence between us warm and worn-in.

The invitation letter rested in my pocket, its crisp corners nudging against my thigh like a heartbeat I couldn’t ignore anymore.

I stopped beneath the arbor we’d wrapped in fairy lights for the last ceremony and turned toward him.

“I said yes,” I said softly.

Damien paused mid-step. “To the competition?”

I nodded, pulling out the letter and handing it over. His eyes scanned it, and for a second, something unreadable flickered across his face—pride, surprise... and something else he tucked away too quickly.

“That’s big,” he said, handing it back.

“It is.” I exhaled, heart steady now. “I think I need to do this. Not to win or prove anything to the judges. But to prove to myself that I can stand tall—even outside Cedar Springs. That I’m more than a small-town florist with wild ideas and chaotic curls.”

Damien reached for my hand, lifted it gently, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “You’ve always been more than that. You’re... sunshine in human form. Go show them.”

The words wrapped around me like a hug, warm and perfect.

But as I looked at him—really looked—I saw the shadow behind his smile. A hesitation he didn’t voice.

“You okay?” I asked.

He nodded a little too quickly. “Of course. I’m proud of you.”

“Damien.”

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