Page 43 of Three Meows

I took a sharp breath in when he turned to look at me and his eyes held the same appreciation in their depths as they held for the stars. Two cold hands cradled my face.

“But I’m starting to think I could deal with never seeing the stars again if only it meant you would stay by my side.”

“You can have both!” I insisted, touched by his confession. “If you can’t see the stars, I will… I will… I will bring the stars to you! Or bring you to them! Or describe them so thoroughly you will feel like you can see them in your mind! I will…”

Rowan shut me up with a kiss.

Which was not fair because I had more ridiculous promises to make! I didn’t even get to tell him that if the stars on the firmament were gods, then we could ascend together to be among them!

I found the silence fit us both better when our lips parted. It said as much as the words could. We were content just existing next to each other and finding the beauty of creation in each other’s eyes.

Chapter Twenty-Two

We were on a holiday trip, that’s true, but a writer’s life was built upon a routine, so Elijah endeavored to find the time for writing whether we were on the road or in my childhood home. Today, I found him by the window overlooking the winter garden. It was a beautiful feat of landscaping and proof of two decades of love poured into making a rich and interesting mix of plants, shrubs, and trees that could not only survive the cold months but thrived during them.

“Do you like it?” I asked when Elijah stopped typing furiously and kept gazing out of the window instead.

He startled, and I worried I disrupted the thinking part of his work, but the smile he turned in my direction was inviting.

“It helps to have something to look at. Trees and plants, birds, and squirrels… it’s perfect because there’s nothing I really need to pay attention to, but at the same time you get enough movement, unpredictability, life, to make it stimulating,” Elijah explained.

“So, your brain goes brrr when you look at plants?” I teased. “How come you don’t have any at home?”

Elijah winced.

“I gave the collection from my previous flat to one of my friends. There’s no use trying to shuffle fragile plants over state lines… And we didn’t spend long enough in the flat next to yours for me to start rebuilding my collection.”

“That I can get, but you moved in weeks ago. Surely we should have at least a cactus by now.”

“There’s four of us in a small flat… you and Chester are always fighting for space for your projects…” Elijah bit his lip. “I didn’t want to get in the way with something as superfluous as plants.”

I stared at him in disbelief tinged with resignation. Of course he tried to make himself small, to take as little space as possible, to not inconvenience me. I wanted to get my hands on the people who taught him his own needs didn’t matter andsqueeze.

Instead, I decided to face a matter that I had been avoiding, all for Elijah. I wasn’t above putting his needs above my own.

“I want to show you a place that is special to me,” I said and extended my hand. “Will you follow me?”

Elijah blinked but nodded, saved his draft, and shut down his laptop.

“Bring the laptop with you,” I said as he stood up.

After we donned our boots and coats I led him outside, past the winter garden, down the cobblestone road, and to the towering structure of the greenhouse.

Each step I took towards it was heavy, but I grit my teeth.

He’s worth it, I said to myself.

I let Elijah into the greenhouse and saw the awe on his face.

While the winter garden was beautiful, it contained mostly shades of green, some blue, and only a few pops of color. In stark contrast, the inside of the greenhouse was alive with a rainbow of blooms. Elijah staggered forward, his eyes wide, amazementspreading across his face as he looked from one plant to another. Purple flowers, red fruits — it was a feast for the senses. Even the green here was different.

In the winter garden, the green hues were muted, bluish, fading into brown… But here, sometimes the green was so vivid it seemed almost surreal — the kind of rich, saturated color you’d expect in a painting or a piece of neon plastic rather than real life.

“My mother created this garden,” I said softly.

Elijah glanced at me.

“Aren’t those plants, like, exotic? I don’t think I’ve seen many of them grown in the States.”

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