Zoe laughed softly. “Use whichever you like, as long as it’s beautiful. Trust yourself—you have a great eye, Mrs. Bishop.”
“I don’t know…” Mrs. Bishop mused. “But I’ll play around and see what works best.”
“You do that. I’m just a phone call away if you need me.”
When Zoe hung up, she took a quiet moment for herself, letting it all sink in. The future secured for the Local Blooms project. For so long she had carried the weight of making her dream a reality, and now it was finally within reach. There would be more work—so much more—but it was the kind of work she was excited for. And she wouldn’t be doing it alone.
Her thoughts flickered to Jackson. To how steady he’d been beside her. Could she finally trust that this was for real? That he wasn’t going to go anywhere?
And where did that leave her with her upcoming IVF appointment? She should probably talk to him about it, but something kept holding her back. What if he didn’t want kids?
Zoe shook her head.Not today, she thought. She wouldn’t bring heaviness into this moment. Today, she wanted to breathe the fresh country air, feel the wind on her face, and simply be happy. And when she asked herself if she was happy right now, the answer was an unequivocal yes.
“Alright,” Jackson said as he reappeared. He carried tack in one hand and a backpack slung over his shoulder. “Ready to go?”
Zoe smiled, her heart kicking up. “Ready.”
After tacking up Xavier, Jackson offered his hand and helped her swing into the saddle. Then he climbed up behind her, settling in close. One strong arm wrapped snugly around her waist, holding her steady.
They rode toward the ridge as the late-afternoon sun gilded the land in gold. Wild violets dotted the new path, and the airsmelled of lilacs and fresh earth. The soft thud of hooves against the grass mixed with the steady rhythm of their breaths.
When they reached the crest overlooking the meadow, Zoe gasped. With the clearing spread out before them, the place seemed wilder and even more breathtaking than before. The flowers—their flowers—were everywhere, shimmering in the sunlight. Even more had bloomed since they were there last.
“Oh, Jackson…” Her voice cracked. “It’s even more beautiful than I remembered.”
He dismounted first, then turned to help her down, his hands lingering at her waist. She followed his gaze toward the far edge of the meadow—where the earth dipped and curved near a cluster of stones half-buried in moss. The outlines of old foundations, maybe. A well, or what was left of one.
“Look at that,” she whispered. “It’s just like in the book—the old settlement by the bend in the river.”
Jackson nodded slowly, wonder flickering across his face. “Guess the legend was telling the truth after all.”
A quiet breeze rippled through the field, stirring the petals until they looked almost alive, a soft shimmer of blue, white, and silver sweeping across the grass.
“This is our meadow,” he said, turning back to her. His voice was low, certain. He leaned in and kissed her softly.
When they broke apart, he turned and pulled a blanket from his pack. “Hungry?” he asked.
“You planned a picnic?” she asked, her lips curving despite herself.
“My mom might’ve had a hand in it,” he said with a grin.
They spread out the blanket, unpacking crackers, a selection of cheese, cold cuts, and a jar of honey golden as sunlight. They ate with their fingers, laughing when honey smeared at the corner of Zoe’s mouth and Jackson wiped it away with his thumb.
“I still can’t believe it,” Zoe whispered, gazing at the meadow. “We thought these were extinct. And now look at them. They’re thriving.”
Jackson followed her gaze, then turned back to her. “Kind of like us.”
She smiled faintly, emotion catching in her throat. “We should tell the town soon. Share it with everyone.”
“We will,” he said. “But not yet. For now, it’s ours. One last secret before the world finds out.”
Jackson’s hand slid to the back of her neck. “Zoe,” he said, his voice low and rough, “you’re everything I ever wanted, but never thought I deserved.”
Her reply was lost against his lips. A deep kiss, full of years of ache and longing melting into something slow and consuming.
Zoe tugged at his shirt, needing more. He shifted closer, pressing her back against the blanket they’d spread out, the solid weight of him anchoring her.
“I know I hurt you. But I promise, if we keep going, if you want to, I’m not walking away again.” His gaze held hers, searching. “I just need you to trust me.”
