Page 121 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

Ruby squeezed my hand before stepping away, already calling back, “Coming!”

I followed her into the bustle of pre-opening chaos, where townspeople were fluffing centerpieces and Marge was aggressively labeling things with a roll of stickers that read “Floral Station: DO NOT MOVE.” Somewhere in the mix, Nathan stood chatting with Eleanor about the town’s history.

I watched Ruby from across the garden as she moved through the crowd with ease and joy, that spark in her eyes shining brighter than ever. My earlier doubts began to fade, like morning fog giving way to sun.

Nathan might’ve known her once. But I knew her now.

And this time, I wasn’t going anywhere.

…

The morning air was crisp, laced with the scent of newly tilled soil and something sweet—probably the lemon scones Hazel insisted on baking at sunrise. I stood near the garden archway, adjusting a banner that refused to hang straight, when footsteps approached from behind.

“I figured I’d find you hiding out here,” Nathan said, his voice as casual as ever, though his eyes held something quieter. “You’re not who I expected.”

I turned slowly, not defensive, just... cautious. “That right?”

Nathan nodded, folding his arms, gaze flicking across the painted benches and vibrant planters that lined the wellness path. “I figured you’d be... colder. Sharper. A little more heartless.”

I gave a dry chuckle. “Well, give it time. I’m still a work in progress.”

He smirked. “Yeah, but you’re real. And solid. And she needed that more than anything.”

There was a pause. One of those rare silences that didn’t need to be filled. Then I stepped forward and held out my hand. “She makes people better. Always has. I just try to live up to her version of me.”

Nathan shook it, firm and steady. “Then you’re already ahead of most.”

He glanced once more toward the community center where Ruby was likely organizing hydrangeas into color-coded bins. “She’s lucky,” he added.

“No,” I said quietly. “We both are.”

Nathan smiled, that same relaxed confidence still tucked into the corners of his expression. But there was respect now, too. And a kind of camaraderie that surprised me.

“Well, I should hit the road,” he said, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. “Places to be. Other towns to unexpectedly drop in on.”

I grinned. “Try to give them more notice next time.”

“No fun in that.”

As he walked away, I watched him go, something in my chest settling. It wasn’t competition I’d felt—it was the weight of measuring up to Ruby’s past. But now, I understood I didn’t have to be anyone else. Just present. Just honest.

Hazel came bursting around the corner like a wind-up squirrel in a sundress. “There you are!”

I arched a brow. “What did I do now?”

She huffed. “Nothing yet. But it’s time to change into your good shoes.”

“My good what?”

“The mayor just pulled up with a news crew. And if you think I’m letting you be filmed in those dusty sneakers, you’ve got another thing coming, Doc.”

I looked down. Yep. Definitely covered in soil and remnants of a paint spill I hadn’t noticed. “Hazel—”

“March,” she ordered, pointing dramatically toward the guest cottage. “There are loafers by the door and a clean shirt hanging on the porch swing. Ruby said to tell you she left a boutonniere, but you’re not allowed to ask what flower it is until after you’re mic’d up.”

I started laughing, helpless to stop. “You people run this town like a sitcom.”

Hazel flashed a grin. “Sweetheart, this is the season finale. Don’t blow it.”

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