Page 186 of The Lumberjack and the City Slicker

My parents.

Greyson.

The sunflowers.

My father exhales.

“Well,” he mutters. “That was unfortunate.”

My mother touches my arm gently.

“Clara,” she says quietly, “I hope you understand we were worried. Geoffrey called the second we came back from Sydney, and he told us you’d vanished. That you were in over your head. That someone was taking advantage of you.”

“I’m not a child,” I say softly. “I left him because I deserved better. And I found it.”

My mother nods once.

“Yes,” she says. “You sure did.”

My parents have always supported me, but hearing her say this? Well, her words soothe the longing for parental approval I didn’t know I needed.

But having it? Well, that makes a difference.

My father looks at Greyson again.

“You really love her?” he asks.

Greyson doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes, sir.”

My father’s eyes shift to me.

“And you?”

I look at Greyson.

At the man who flew me here himself.

Who stood between me and humiliation without hesitation.

Who claimed his name and his work tonight without hiding.

“I really love him,” I say.

There it is.

Out loud.

My mother’s lips curve slowly.

“Well,” she says, glancing around at the crowd that’s pretending not to watch, “if we’re going to have a scene in Manhattan, at least it’s in a room full of sunflowers. They’re your favorite, darling.”

I laugh—unexpected and shaky.

My father extends a hand to Greyson.

“Cole, Cole—ah ha, that’s it. I knew your father,” he says. “You’re not like him.”