“No, I’m the one who should apologize. It’s incredibly unladylike to answer the door looking like this.” I attempt a smile, but the drying clay cracks against my skin, making me look more pained than polite.
“Please,” Gerome says kindly, “you’re gorgeous no matter what.”
The compliment makes me laugh softly. Gerome has worked in this building since it opened, and somehow, he still treats every resident like royalty.
“I won’t take up your time,” he continues. “I just came to deliver these flowers.”
Only then do I notice the enormous arrangement balanced in his arms.
“Oh wow,” I say, attempting another smile and failing just as badly.
“Is there somewhere you’d like me to put them?” he asks when I don’t move to take the arrangement from him.
“Right, sorry.” I shake myself out of my daze. “I’m just a little shocked by the size of that thing.”
I reach underneath the arrangement to help support the weight.
It’s so heavy that there have to be at least a hundred roses packed into the arrangement.
Gerome helps me close the door while I carefully maneuver my way toward the kitchen. Once I set the bouquet on the counter, I take a moment to admire it.
As much as I want these flowers to be from Miles, deep down, I know this isn’t his style.
After inhaling the sweet scent of the roses, I begin searching for the card. That’s when I notice the peonies strategically woven throughout the arrangement.
It’s undeniably beautiful. The soft blush roses paired with the pale peonies create something elegant and undeniably expensive-looking.
But then my traitorous mind drifts to the mason jar Miles once handed me, stuffed with uneven roses he’d picked from his garden himself.
Compared to that, this arrangement loses some of its magic.
Reluctantly, I search for the card.
When I finally find it tucked between the flowers, I take a deep breath before reading it.
My dearest Penny,
Six weeks to say “I do!” I don’t want you to worry about anything. I have everything covered.
All you have to do is wear the dress that will arrive at your doorstep the day before the ceremony and open the door for the styling team that will arrive first thing that morning.
All my love,
Easton.
Not only am I marrying Easton against my will, but he’s apparently planning every detail of the wedding without even asking what I want. If this is going to be the only wedding I ever have, shouldn’t I at least get a say in it?
If this is a preview of what life with him will look like…
I don’t let myself finish the thought.
Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply and slowly let the air leave my lungs. I have to remember why I’m doing this. Dad worked too hard to build everything we have just to let the Ryans take it away from him.
So yes, I have to go through with this charade for my family.
Which is exactly why, an hour later, I find myself driving across Charlotte with Easton’s card still burning a hole in my purse.
By the time I pull into my parents’ driveway, my stomach is in knots.
