Page 83 of Wallflower in Bloom

From what Gray had told him, Nash had moved back a few years ago from New York and was the head of the Fairwick Falls Bank. He and Gray had bonded over being the only two unmarried guys under 50, but that would probably end soon with how moony-eyed Gray was.

“What does your mom think of Rose?” Jack asked.

“She’s happy I’m happy.”

“Lucky,” Nash muttered.

Gray shrugged. “Our parents got to live their lives; now we get to live ours, so they can fucking deal with our choices.”

Jack mulled over the utterly foreign thought in his head: doing something that may disappoint the people he cared about most just because it made him happy.

Maybe it was time to take fate into his own hands.

Jack threw his car into park outside Violet’s cottage and sat in the cocoon of cicadas and evening birdsong.

As he’d played four rounds of the game with Gray and Nash, a thought kept itching at the back of his head. The life Nash’s mother wanted for her son sounded like the best thing he’d ever heard.

He’d sworn off relationships because, deep down, he knew it was exactly what he wanted. If he let himself get too close, he’d abandon all his dreams, all the things he’d worked for.

And it would let his mum down.

He examined the idea of family life, turning the idea over in his head. All he wanted was the idyllic, bucolic life he’d had growing up. A family with no expectations other than love. Having regular kids at a regular school and a wife he was excited to come home to after doing something productive.

What would it be like to trade mothers with Gray? Having a mum who just wanted him to be happy would be nice for a change.

A delivery truck pulled up and dropped off a small package as he sat in the car. Fuck yes.

He walked to grab the present he’d found for Violet.

The single light was on in her greenhouse, and he wandered through the decorative hedges toward her. It had been scorching hot that afternoon, so she must be catching up now that it was only oppressively hot rather than deadly.

Violet worked with her hair tied up, only wearing a sports bra and khaki linen shorts. She worked by the light of a battery-powered lamp, propagating more plants.

She looked utterly unbothered, in her element, and he craved her with an animal-like need. He let himself dream for a split second what it would be like to have her as his wife, a mother to his child.

He could imagine coming home to her after a long day of filming, cuddling up with her on a couch. Drinking properly made tea and sinking his teeth into a biscuit.

Into her.

But she was inextricably linked with Fairwick Falls. He’d be back in Vancouver within a month. Hopefully, she could handle being the star of the Plant Mom videos by herself.

He thought back to how she had initially struggled with them. Then a realization hit him like a thunderbolt: she was a terrible actress.

How had that escaped him until now?

She was fake dating him, yet she was a natural when they were out together. No one ever second-guessed it.

She leaned over to coo at a new plant she’d just settled in its holder, and as he enjoyed the view of her round, heart-shaped ass facing him, reality hit him like a ton of fucking bricks.

Oh fuck; he wasn’t acting either. He wanted her.

Badly.

He’d duped himself into a relationship. What kind of absolute moron could he be?

It might be time to talk about how not fake this entire thing was between them.

“Burning the midnight oil?”

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