Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
She grimaced. “He’ll be spitting tacks once he finds out.”
“He will,” I agreed. “But I can handle him being angry over the… alternative.”
“Got it.”
No one else spoke of Ansel after that, though I knew that Rowan had noted the strained interaction. As he always did. Luckily, he didn’t press me on it. I wasn’t strong enough to go down that road yet. I would at some point, but not then.
Eventually, everyone left after they assured me they could handle the bakery.
Well, everyone except Rowan.
He stayed.
Practically the entire time I was there. He went home to shower, change, check on Maggie—who was hanging with Kip. But every other moment, he was by my side, touching me in one way or another, as if he were reminding himself that I was still there.
And then when I was discharged, he waited on me hand and foot. He even left Maggie to look over me in his absence. She did not move from her spot on the foot of my bed. I’d reassured him countless times that I wasn’t going to die in his absence. He hadn’t found that funny.
Rowan had also gone to my house before I was discharged, which was evident when I got home. The place was filled with flowers and food from my friends. But that’s not what told me Rowan had been there.
It was the greenhouse off my kitchen.
The last time I’d seen it, I hadn’t really seen it at all since there were tarps up between the two spaces. I had been dying to peek, but Rowan had grumbled about a surprise, and I didn’t want to face his wrath. Beyond that, I’d wanted to be surprised.
When I laid eyes on the greenhouse—the one that looked almost identical to the Practical Magic one with the white wood, the ceiling, the light fixture, the rows of herbs and antique style drawers running along the edge of the structure—I went back on my foot and probably would’ve collapsed if it weren’t for Rowan’s arms around me.
“This isn’t a g-greenhouse,” I stuttered, staring at the space in wonder. “This is an addition to my house. You literally added another room to my house.” I turned to Rowan. “How did I not notice this?”
He was grinning. “You’ve been distracted.”
“No one is distracted enough to not notice another room being built onto their home,” I retorted, my eyes darting around, overwhelmed by what I was seeing.
“Fiona helped with the styling shit and the herbs,” Rowan apprised me, rubbing the back of his neck.
I should’ve known Fiona was involved in this. I was surprised she’d managed to keep her mouth shut; she normally sucked at keeping secrets. Beyond that, she’d been itching to get her hands on a room in my house since I was too much of a control freak to allow her to make any decisions on my décor.
Yet I’d let Rowan do this without question.
Granted, he hadn’t given me much choice in the matter. He’d just… gone and done it.
“Worked all night to get it done. Wanted you to come home to it,” Rowan continued, brushing some basil with his fingertip.
The fragrance of it scented the air, among the other herbs thriving in the greenhouse.
“Didn’t want you living in a construction zone while you were healing. And I wanted to have it done in time for Ansel’s arrival. From what you’ve told me about him, he seems to be into herbs and magic and whatever.”
My heart clenched, unable to handle all of this kindness. This thoughtfulness.
“You better be invoicing me for all of this,” I told him in a stern tone. Stern was all I could manage. Tears were prickling the backs of my eyes as it was.
Speaking of stern… that’s exactly what I saw on Rowan’s face. “You give me a cent for this, we’re gonna have problems.”
I gulped at his rough tone.
“This is a gift.”
I gaped. Opened my mouth. Closed it. Waited for the punchline even though Rowan wasn’t exactly a joking kind of guy.
“A gift?” I squeaked. “You cannot build an addition onto my house as a gift!” My voice rose then. “I mean, we’ve been dating like… a month. And this is thousands of dollars of material, labor…”
Rowan surged forward to clasp my upper arms. Not hard. His touch was featherlight, as if I were made of glass, ever since I woke up in the hospital.
“First, you’re not workin’ yourself up.” He scowled. “You’re gonna go sit on the sofa.”
“No!” I protested, rooting myself in place, even though my stomach was throbbing, and it was exhausting, standing for so long.
A muscle jumped in Rowan’s jaw.
“You cannot give me this as a gift,” I whispered. “You cannot give me everything I’ve dreamed of.” I looked down so my tears would hit the floor.
Rowan wasn’t about to let that happen. His finger lifted the bottom of my chin so I looked upward, into his eyes.