Page 122 of Playing Mr. Perfect

Now I look like myself again, only better. And that man downstairs is the reason.

I need to find a way to let him know.

After brushing my teeth and washing up, I pull on leggings, thick, fuzzy socks, and one of Clay’s hoodies and head out of the bedroom. My pulse quickens at a trail of red rose petals leading down the stairs and into the living room. I lose my breath at dozens of bouquets of gorgeous red and pink roses on every surface, and there in the middle of the room, is Clay, with a coffee mug in one hand and a loving smile on his lips.

“Clay…?” I say breathily.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.” He sets the mug on the coffee table and steps aside, motioning toward the couch he was standing in front of.

My gaze moves over several large photographs of my favorite things, with a big red bow on the corner of each elaborate frame. The frames could only have been decorated by Morgyn. I recognize her signature mix of colorful elements and repurposed metals, which are as eclectic as they are beautiful. Tears spring to my eyes, and I point at the picture of my mother standing in her kitchen, smiling warmly like she always does. “How did you…?” My voice cracks.

“I hired Hawk to take the pictures.” He reaches for my hand, leading me over to them. “Your mom’s smile, because it always makes you happy every time you walk into their kitchen and see it.” He nods to the picture of my father standing by the barn, holding out his hand, as if offering it to me. “Your father’s hand, because it makes you feel safe.”

Tears spill down my cheeks as he motions to each picture, reciting what I told him about each one weeks ago.

“The lake near your parents’ house where you and your dad used to sail the boats you built.” The sun is glistening off the water, and on the side of the lake are the boats my father and I built together. “Your father saved all of your boats.”

I laugh softly, more tears falling.

He motions to the picture of the lab in the barn. “I asked him why he kept the lab all these years, and he said, So my princess can sneak out there anytime she wants to.”

“I have a few times when life was overwhelming,” I admit, wiping more tears.

He nods to the front of the Stardust Café, with its old-fashioned sign and big picture window. “Because you have so many great memories there.” He points to the next picture, the sun setting over the creek. Sable’s old guitar is leaning against the rocks we used to sit on. “The beautiful creek where you and Sable used to go for walks.”

“And she’d play the guitar,” I say as more tears spring free.

“And tell you all her secrets. You felt closest to her there.” He motions to the next photograph. “And the tree by the old church in town, where you felt like you did when we were in Paris.”

“Like I could just be me. In the moment,” I say just above a whisper.

“That’s right, baby.” He guides me in front of the last two photographs, of the Eiffel Tower and the carousel we rode in Paris, both taken in the dusky morning light without any people around them. “I thought you might like them for your office even though they weren’t on your list.”

“I do want them there. I love them all.” I turn to hug him, but he holds up his hand.

“We’re not done yet.” He goes behind the couch and picks up two more picture frames. “I thought you might like these for your house.”

He turns them around, and my heart nearly stops. One is a picture of us at the top of the Eiffel Tower as the sun sets. His arm is around me, and we’re gazing at each other. The adoration in our eyes is as palpable and real as the emotions clogging my throat. The second picture is of us holding hands on the carousel, both of us laughing.

My throat thickens anew. “Who took those?”

“I can’t divulge my sources.” He sets them in front of the couch.

“I can’t believe you did all of this and remembered everything I said. Thank you.” I throw my arms around him, holding tight.

“I’m glad you like them.”

“I love them, and I love my card.” And I love you.

He gazes into my eyes, and he looks so serious, it feels like he’s going to say something important. But the seriousness fades, and his dimples appear. “I wish I could have taken the pictures myself.” He kisses me softly. “Ready to watch the sunrise? I put the blankets outside.”

“Yes. I have a gift for you, too, but I can’t give it to you until we’re in Oak Falls.”

“That’s intriguing.” He hands me my latte, and as we head out to the deck, he says, “Christening your lab in the loft of the barn?”

I shake my head, laughing softly.

“Revisiting the site where you lost your virginity to obliterate those memories with better ones?”