Page 59 of Stuck with Doctor Grump

We worked side by side for the next half hour, digging, planting, and occasionally arguing over spacing. By the time we’d covered two neat rows, we were both smudged with dirt, our hands grimy and our jeans worse for wear.

I sat back on my heels, looking over our messy masterpiece with a breathless sort of pride.

“You know,” I said softly, “I always dreamed of doing something like this. A healing garden. A place where people could breathe again.”

He dropped the trowel and leaned on his hands, the breeze ruffling his shirt. “It’s a good dream.”

I turned to him, brushing my palms on my thighs. “It doesn’t have to stop here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” I gestured around us. “You and me. This garden. What if we built something more? Together.”

His expression shifted, curiosity flaring. “More?”

“Not just flowers. A full community space. We could renovate the rooftop above the shop. Add benches, a little greenhouse. You could do wellness workshops. I could do grief florals or therapeutic arrangements.”

He stared at me, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I’d said too much.

“You want to combine medicine and flowers?” he asked, half teasing.

“I want to combine us.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You heal people with your hands. I heal them with beauty. Let’s give this town both.”

He was quiet for a beat, then reached out and brushed his thumb across my cheek, smudging away a little fleck of soil. “You really believe we could pull it off?”

“With you?” I smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

We sat in the dirt, sunlight dappling our shoulders, the garden bed before us blooming with promise.

Then I stood, brushing off my knees, and reached for a small wooden sign I’d hidden earlier under my sweater. The paint was still drying on the edges, and the letters weren’t perfectly even—but it was mine. Ours.

Damien cocked his head as I held it up.

“Officially naming it?” he asked.

I nodded and knelt at the head of the flower bed. With a soft press into the soil, I staked the sign in place.

Hearts in Bloom.

He stepped beside me, reading it aloud. “Hearts in Bloom,” he murmured. “That’s perfect.”

“It felt right.”

He looked at the bed, then at me, his voice husky with something deeper than pride. “You’re still the bravest person I know.”

I reached for his hand and squeezed it. “And you’re still the best thing that ever happened to my mess.”

His fingers tightened around mine. “Guess we’re planting roots for real now.”

I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. “With you, I think I finally know what that means.”

The breeze carried the scent of fresh earth and croissants and us. Damien and Ruby. Blooming where we’d once been broken.

And I knew without a doubt—we weren’t just planting flowers.

We were planting forever.

The news spread like lavender in bloom—soft, fragrant, and impossible to ignore.

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