Coco
He made me a garden—one filled with river stones and pebbles, one that winds around trees and shrubs, one he’s building with his own two hands.
I sit in the sedan, taking it all in. Stone has already told me goodbye, and my excuse for sitting in the car for a moment is that there are emails that need sorting through.
But there aren’t any emails.
He’s finished lunch and is now laying stones atop each other, lining out the space, studying, shaking his head, rearranging his work.
The whole thing breaks me open.
Because he’s doing it for me.
This is why I couldn’t tell him the truth. I thought, reveal it to him here, on neutral ground, get it over with. But in the end, this is the truest relationship I’ve ever had, and it’s not even real.
Because my own relationship with my sister isn’t even real and it should be. This thing with Stone is more real than that.
And it feels like maybe I don’t deserve to have something actual, something that isn’t based on a lie.
My God—he’s building a space in my honor at a multimillion-dollar facility. He’s making it for me, and as much as I should be letting him go, I can’t.
What if he rejects the real me? What if the real me isn’t good enough?
A fierce lion inside me wants to grab him tight and hold on as long as I can.
The thought of ending things now makes me physically sick to my stomach. It churns at the thought of revealing the truth.
One more month.
Just one more and I’ll get the lunaria bloom again, make the potion. Then I’ll give it to him.
Besides, it’s not as if he’ll want to marry me in a month.
That gives me thirty more days to pretend this is real, to pretend that I can keep Stone Maddox forever.
Chapter 42
Coco
When I get home from work, it seems like a cloud has descended over the cottage. It feels dark, drab. Or maybe it’s just me and my mood.
I don’t expect Stone home for a while, so it’s no surprise when he’s not there. Whatissurprising is the large white box lying on the rickety kitchen table.
There’s a small envelope on top of it. Inside, the card reads:Please put this on. A car will pick you up at 7.
A car? What the . . . ?
I open the box and find an evening gown encrusted with crystals. I suck in a breath. Never in my life have I seen such a beautiful piece of clothing. And Lord, is it heavy!
I pull it from the box, and more gasping occurs. It’s strapless, with a sweetheart neckline and a fitted bodice that gives way to a silk skirt that flows like water under my fingers.
Holy shit. This is gorgeous. Are we going out on the town—maybe outoftown? Is this gonna be like inPretty Womanwhen Richard Gere takes Julia Roberts to the opera and she gets to wear that beautiful necklace?
Is there a beautiful necklace hidden somewhere?
My gaze scours the table. No more boxes. Dang. I really wanted a necklace.
But hell, if there’s a driver, there might be a private jet.
