I blinked at her, still a little disoriented. "Okay, do I need to sign for it?"
She shook her head. "No, but you should come and see it."
Now she had all of my interest. Dragging myself out of bed, I moved slowly at first, allowing my ribs and injuries to warm up. As desperate as I was to see this delivery, I had to pee and brush my teeth first, but I didn't waste time on anything else. As I hurried down the stairs, holding on tightly to the handrail, Mary was right behind me.
When I rounded the curve of the staircase, allowing me to see the large front foyer, I stopped dead in my tracks. "Oh my god."
I just stood there blinking at the sight, wondering if I was imagining shit. But, nope, I was seeing it all very correctly.
The entire room was filled with plants in a variety of pots.
The sights and scents of so many different sizes and species was the most incredible and intoxicating thing I'd ever experienced, and as I slowly made my way down the rest of the stairs, I started to recognize some of the plants.
"Edible flowers and trees," I murmured. "I don't..." My throat closed over, and I couldn't finish.
Mary handed me an envelope, and my hands trembled as I took it from her. "Dylan?" she asked.
I swallowed hard, feeling overwhelmed. After fumbling with the envelope, I pulled out a thick, high-quality card, and I knew immediately the masculine slash of writing had been done by Dylan himself.
For one of my favorite days.
I read the line over and over. It was a simple one, no declaration of love, but it meant so much to me that he thought about the day we'd spent in the forest together, learning and laughing. Before he’d known about the baby. Before there’d been any obligation to form a pseudo-family with me.
"There are pine trees over here," Mary exclaimed, and I was reminded she had asked a question.
"It's from Dylan," I confirmed sounding teary. "At camp, he taught me survival skills, including what edible plants could save your life. Most of them weren't there in the forest, since it’s winter, but... I think this is every plant he taught me about." From the most beautiful wildflowers to herbs to fruiting shrubs.
It was so thoughtful, and it meant so much more to me than if he'd just filled the space with bunches of roses. This was a literal representation of a moment we’d had together.
Mary clapped her hands together. "How romantic. I'll hire a gardener to plant them all somewhere once we’ve ripped out a few of Blake's backyard monstrosities."
I chuckled, slowly recovering from my shock. I needed to contact Dylan and thank him for this gift, but part of me still wasn't ready. I missed him so much, and I knew if I allowed it to happen, I'd lose myself in Dylan Grant. But losing myself before I'd even figured out how to live would do neither of us any favors. I had to be strong.
A quick text would work though.
Me: Your gift arrived. Thank you. That day meant a lot to me as well.
This was my new phone with a brand new number. I hadn't given the new number to anyone yet. Dylan was the first, and it was my way of gifting him something as well: an opening back into my life. If he wanted it.
Baby steps.
Dylan: Look outside.
Outside? There was a lot of outside on this estate, but I headed for the front entrance first. When I stepped out the door, it was to find my second surprise of the day. In the driveway with a huge white bow on top of it, was a dark burgundy SUV—a familiar looking one, similar to the car Dylan had driven me to the hospital in.
Half in shock, I walked forward slowly and ran my hand lightly over the shiny front. A letter had been stuck under the windshield wiper, tucked into the exact same envelope that had come with the plants.
The car was so massive I had to get on tiptoes to reach it, then I dragged it back to me. Mary was at my side again, and she shook her head. "How did he get this delivered through our security gates?" She didn't sound impressed. "I need to get them reprogrammed again."
I didn't bother to argue with her, but I knew that nothing would keep Dylan out if he wanted in. After pulling out the