She and Max walked back to the shop, and she filled her car with the flowers, ribbon and pins she needed. They drove back to Geoffrey’s house —no, our house,Bo corrected herself with pleasure — and she got to work while Max made coffee.
Bo set up camp on the floor of the study, her hands full of flowers.
“What time is it?” she asked Max, who glanced at his phone.
“Three a.m.,” he replied, grinning at her. “Fitting.”
She grinned back.
Bo made flowers on the floor while Max played on his piano. They worked side by side until the sky began to brighten, and when Bo was finished, Max pulled her into his arms.
“Do you think Geoffrey wanted this to happen?” he asked. “He took away half my inheritance but gave me you.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll always be grateful though.”
Max helped Bo put the bouquets into her car and then stared across the heath to where the sky was turning orange and pink, the rising sun bright against the London horizon.
“You once told me we would never be the kind of couple who walked off into the sunset together,” Bo remarked, and Max glanced sideways at her, reaching for her hand.
“Good thing I never said anything about the sunrise then.”
Bo laughed, and Max pressed a kiss to her mouth, soft and sensual.
“It’s going to be a good one,” he told her, and Bo nodded, knowing he didn’t just mean the day or the weather.
“You’re right. It is.”
Hand in hand, side by side, they watched the sun rise together.
THE END
