Barry and Drea handled the commercial arm of Reboot Industries mostly on their own. Sean handled the private investigation business with a bit of help from Jade and a small office staff. Unless he needed a keen eye on something, like the surveillance footage. After feeling like he had dropped the ball on Byron Huxley, Jack honed his detective skills. And he was able to spot patterns of deception where most could not.
The motion-activated lights in the greenhouse turned on as we entered, revealing the twenty-foot-wide by sixty-foot-long glass-enclosed space. At the far end, a small eight-by-ten section was enclosed with clear plastic. Inside was where I had been attempting to create the right environment for the middlemist red camellia to flower. But it turned out it wasn’t as easy to recreate UK weather in Oregon as I presumed.
Jack unzipped the plastic sheeting and held the flap open for me to enter ahead of him. “Ladies first.”
I inhaled the sweet, verdant smell as I entered the mini-greenhouse-within-a-greenhouse. The misting system must have activated recently, as the shiny, dark-green leaves of the three potted camellia plants were beaded with moisture. I immediately grabbed the small cosmetic scissors I kept in here for precision pruning, and snipped a few leaves. But as I rubbed a waxy leaf between my fingers, I spotted a tiny hint of red beneath it.
My heart raced as I bent down and gently lifted the leaf to get a better look. I gasped when I saw a tiny, sage-green bud no more than a centimeter in diameter. A minuscule dot of red flower could be seen peeking out of the top of the bud.
I clapped my hand over my mouth. “Oh, my God,” I whispered. “Do you see it, too?”
Jack leaned over, smiling as he spotted the bud. “Holy shit. You did it.”
My eyes widened as I turned toward him slowly, my hand still covering my mouth.
He laughed as he pried my hand off my face. “You did it, pixie.”
I nodded, still unable to acknowledge the achievement with words.
He shook his head and planted a loud kiss on my forehead as he took me into his arms. “Your mom is doing backflips in heaven.”
I chuckled as I unabashedly rubbed my tear-stained cheeks on his T-shirt. Curling my fingers around the fabric, I smiled as I finally decided on what we should name our soon-to-be son.
Sniffling as I looked up, I smiled at the look of pure love in Jack’s eyes. “I think I know what I want to name him… Thorn.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Thorn?”
“I acknowledge it sounds a bit like naming your kid Apple or Scout, but I… Well, if I’m being honest, I love it.”
Jack laughed. “It sounds like a superhero or villain, which definitely suits that little thorn in your crotch.”
Right on cue, the baby rolled inside me, and I let out a soft gasp. “I think he likes it.”
Jack nodded. “Thorn it is,” he said, rubbing my belly. “Can’t wait to meet our little superhero.”
As Jack and I went back upstairs, I sat up in bed as he went to the bathroom to shower. Pulling up the journal app on my phone, I began typing my nightly journal entry, which I planned to give to Rose when she graduated from college or got married. I hadn’t decided yet.
* * *
March 8, 2023
* * *
Today, you outgrew another pair of rain boots. And when I took you out to the garden wearing my rain boots, you once again tried to convince me that you are immune to rose thorns.
When your dad and I went to check on the camellia in the greenhouse, we discovered a tiny bud hidden beneath the foliage. This was the moment I decided to name your brother, who should born in less than three weeks, Thorn.
You never got to meet your Grandma Beth, but one day you’ll understand how proud she would be of your bravery. And I hope by naming your brother Thorn, he will one day proudly take up his role as your protector. Allowing you to remain as fearless as ever.
You’ve told me many times, but I think today I finally understand: Thorns don’t hurt roses. Thorns help roses bloom.
* * *
THE END
For more swoony, emotional romance, visit cassialeo.com/books. Or turn the page for a preview of The Way We Fall.
BLOOM BONUS SCENE
Jack
I grabbed a hardcover copy of The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen off the gleaming mahogany shelf in the library of the Bulgari Suite at the Bulgari Hotel. Rounding the corner, I crossed the bedroom and hit the switches on the wall to turn on the terrace light and the outdoor fireplace. Then, I sunk down into a boxy wicker chair, all settled in to read a few chapters, while appreciating the savory aroma from the Italian restaurant behind the hotel and the glittering view of London.
Laurel and Drea were still getting ready in Drea’s suite next door. I had just finished bathing Rose and getting her down to sleep for the night, in anticipation of tomorrow’s fun-filled, Frozen-themed first birthday party. Laurel insisted the party needed a theme, despite the fact that, at one year of age, Rose had the attention span of a ferret and had never watched the movie Frozen. In four hours, Laurel and I would renew our vows at The Globe Theater at midnight, leaving Rose with a babysitter for the first time in her young life.
I was halfway through the first chapter of The Corrections when Drea stepped out onto the terrace in a powder-blue dress and a hat of the same color, which looked like something Kate Middleton would wear. “Is she ready?” I asked, standing from the chair.
Drea’s mouth dropped open. “Uh, yes. Are you? You’re not even dressed!”
I chuckled as I stepped inside the suite. “I am ready. I just have to change into my suit. Won’t take more than ten minutes.”
“Well, chop-chop. I told the car service to get here thirty minutes earlier, to head off potential traffic.”
I shook my head. “It’s nine p.m. on a Tuesday. Not exactly rush hour.”
“This isn’t Portlandia. This is London.”
“Oh, sweet summer child. You’re obviously still not familiar with Portland traffic,” I replied, rounding the bed.
“And I pray I never am,” she shot back as she exited the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
As I finished getting dressed and exited the walk-in closet, Drea let out a shrill gasp. Rushing out into the hallway, I was not surprised to find Laurel and Drea arguing in the foyer. Laurel was attempting to push past Drea to get to a door that lead to the second bedroom of our suite, where Rose was sleeping while my assistant Jade watched Netflix on her laptop. Drea was unsuccessfully trying to push Laurel back toward the hotel corridor, when Laurel noticed me watching them from the hallway.
My pixie was wearing nude heels and a sleeveless cream-colored dress, which was cut above the knee and hugged all her killer curves. Like Drea, she wore a Kate Middleton-esque hat, but Laurel’s had a small mesh veil that covered her eyes.
She smiled as she looked me up and down. “I love that gray suit on you.”
Drea whipped her head around and gasped again. “You’re not supposed to see each other!”
I shook my head, my gaze traveling the length of Laurel’s body as I approached. “Look at you,” I said, swallowing the knot in my throat. “You’re a fucking knockout… But she’s right. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I can’t do it,” Laurel replied, her eyes begging me to understand. “I can’t leave her alone. She can sleep in Jade’s arms at the ceremony. Besides, Jade told me she wanted to be there. This way everyone gets what they want.”
Drea let out a heavy sigh as she walked away and opened the door to leave the suite. “I’ll be next door if anyone needs me.”
I looked into Laurel’s brown eyes and shook my head. “No. Rose is staying here with Jade, then you and I are getting a room and I’m going to fuck you senseless. Unless you’re not in the mood, then that’s totally okay.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.
“Rose will be sound asleep and perfectly safe with Jade,” I continued. “Tonight, you’re mine…
and I’m yours. Just you and me, pixie. No fear, remember?”
She swallowed hard. “Okay,” she whispered, slowly nodding her head as if she were trying to convince herself, or scared her hat would fall off. “Okay, just you and me. But you have to promise me one thing.”
I chuckled. “Baby, I’m going to be making about a hundred promises to you tonight. One more can’t hurt.”
She reached up and curled her fingers around my lapels, staring at my chest for a moment before she looked up at me. “Promise me we’ll save a piece of cake for the baby. She loves lemon frosting.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on. We’d better get going before Drea has a stroke.”
As I watched Laurel’s dad walk her down the aisle in the center of the Globe Theater, my eyes stung with the threat of tears. I blinked a few times and smiled to try to convince my brain to stop trying to make me cry. It was difficult to keep composed when you realized you were married to the most beautiful woman in the world.
Mark helped Laurel up the stairs to the altar, which had been set up on the stage. A group of less than forty friends and family were seated on either side of the aisle, including Mark’s wife, whom Laurel had never met until yesterday’s dinner; my mom and dad; my sister Jessica and her first monogamous boyfriend in half a decade; my brother John and his fiancée; Sean Dougherty and his new girlfriend; and Drea and Barry, and their parents, to name a few.
As the minister went through the short speech he used for vow renewals, I watched Laurel intently. I observed the rise and fall of her chest as she took slow breaths and rubbed my thumbs over the backs of her trembling hands. Though she’d mostly gotten her anxiety under control, she did pass out a few months ago when she had to give her first speech at a benefit for our new Reboot Humanity Foundation. She admitted to me afterward that, as she stood on the stage talking about her own PTSD with hundreds of faces staring back at her, she kept wondering if everyone was watching her and imagining the event that caused her PTSD.
These thoughts spiraled into a full-blown panic attack and she passed out as she was attempting to leave the stage. Some assholes actually tweeted pictures and video of the event, which only elicited more tweets and posts accusing Laurel of faking a panic attack for publicity and donations. Luckily, the trolls quickly latched onto the next news story, and her humiliation was forgotten by the media within a couple days. It took two weeks, however, to convince her to leave the house.
“And now, husband and wife will read their vows,” the minister said, nodding his bald head in Laurel’s direction.
She smiled as I tightened my grip on her hands, then she cleared her throat and looked me in the eye. “As many of you know, I am not very good at public speaking anymore. Don’t Google that.” She took a deep breath as she waited for the muted laughter from the guests to die down. “So, as much as I love you,” she said, addressing me now, “I wasn’t looking forward to getting up here, in possibly the most famous theater in the world, and saying my most intimate thoughts in front of the people whose opinions I care about the most. But now that I’m here… I feel… okay. More okay than I’ve felt in ages. There’s something about the way you look at me, like I’m the only person in the room, that puts my soul at ease.”
I flashed her a soft smile as I nodded ever so slightly to encourage her to keep going.
She sniffed as her eyes filled with tears. “There’s no promise I could make today that I haven’t already made to you in private. And I know that the purpose of this ceremony is to make those promises aloud in front of the people we love, but today I’m going to do something a little different. Today, I’m only going to make two promises.
“First, I promise not to keep score of your bad deeds. I know in the past I’ve kept score of how many times you’ve hurt my feelings or forgotten to clean your beard trimmings out of the sink, but I’m not going to do that anymore. Marriage is not a game where you deduct and score points. Marriage is real life, and it’s messy. Sometimes, you’re a better husband than I am a wife. And sometimes, I’m a better wife than you are a husband. And that’s okay, because I know if it ever became severely imbalanced, we’d be back in Bonnie’s office faster than we could say the d-word. Which brings me to promise number two.
“I promise that if I ever feel like our marriage is in trouble, I will tell you long before I tell anyone else. I know you can’t read my mind, and in the past, I’ve allowed small worries in my mind to ripen into full-fledged catastrophes. But I promise that as long as we’re together, which I hope is for the rest of our lives, you’ll be the first to know when I’m hurting or when I’m scared about the future.
“For almost a decade now, you’ve been my best friend, my lover, and my protector. Three years ago, you proved the ferocity of your bravery and love and became my hero,” she said, tears flowing freely down her face as she referred to the moment I pushed her out of the bathroom. “I look forward to spending the next seventy years in the solace of your strength.”
The minister handed me some tissues and I helped Laurel wipe tears from her face. She let out a congested laugh when Drea raced up onto the altar to collect the spent tissues. I waited for Drea to take her seat again before I proceeded with my vows.
Taking Laurel’s hands again, I drew in a long breath and looked her in the eye. “On our first date, I brought paper bags and a black Sharpie to your apartment, so we could put bags over our heads and answer personal questions about each other while pretending to be the other person. I told you I’d gotten the idea from a girl I’d dated. Well, the truth is that… it was actually a game I made up, and I played that game with every girl I went out with. I was young and, well, let’s be honest, kind of a jerk.”
I paused for the guests to laugh. “But I didn’t tell you the real reason why I never played that game with anyone else after we played it. Even when we were broken up for a little while during our senior year.” I reached up and brushed my thumb across her cheek to wipe away a stray tear. “I asked you on our first date, ‘What’s one thing you’ve wished for that you think you might never get?’ And you were supposed to answer as if you were me. But you accidentally answered as yourself. Anyway, you quickly brushed off the error and answered as me. I don’t remember what you said after you corrected your mistake. Sorry.” I smiled as she shook her head. “But I’ll never forget what you said the first time you answered the question. I asked, ‘What’s one thing you’ve wished for that you think you might never get?’ And you said, ‘Happiness.’”
This time I paused to collect myself as I was hit with a monster wave of emotion. “Your honesty and vulnerability in that one tiny moment was like… like a bright flicker of stunningly pure hope in a world I’d come to think of as dark and soulless. It was the first time in almost three years I didn’t fear the future. And as long as we’ve been together, that feeling has never gone away. My hope has wavered, yes. But you always manage to bring it back. You’re the only one who can do that.
“I know we’ve had a few rough years, especially this last one, but I promise that no matter how bad things get, I’m going to choose to trust you. I promise I’ll try to never let my fears get between us. I promise to always try to understand you, your hopes, your fears, your desires… even when they might seem a little weird.
“I promise to listen to you, I mean put down my phone and really listen. I promise to make sure you always know how thankful I am to have you in my life. I promise to be a patient and protective father, as generous with my time and love as I am with my bank account.”
“You mean our bank account,” she corrected me.
“More like your bank account. But, anyway, back to my vows,” I replied, laughing along with the guests as Laurel rolled her eyes. Placing a conciliatory kiss on the back of her hand, I looked her in the eye as I continued, “I promise to take care of you and your beautiful heart. But most of all, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you never feel as if true joy is beyond your reach. I might no
t be able to give you the son we lost, but I promise I’ll do everything I can to give you a life filled with overwhelming love and happiness. I love you more than you can imagine, pixie.”
She let out a deep sigh as tears began sliding down her cheeks again. “I can’t imagine loving anyone more.”
Taking her face gently in my hands, I kissed her forehead. Then I took her into my arms and squeezed her tightly, the way she liked being held because it made her feel safe. And when her body relaxed into me and her breathing slowed, I knew I could let go and she would be okay, which was all I wanted and all I’d ever want.
THE WAY WE FALL
Prologue
Lies are comforting. Soft blankets we wrap around our hearts. We roll around in them like fat, happy pigs. Gorging on their decadence. We prefer lies, though we claim otherwise. Trust me. If ignorance is bliss, believing lies is orgasmic.
I should know. I’d subsisted on a steady diet of lies and orgasms while Houston and I were together. And now that he was standing before me, five and a half years after the breakup, six-foot-four inches of solid muscle and caramel-brown hair, offering me my first dose of reality, part of me wondered whether my body would reject it.
Houston sighs as he looks me in the eye. “Rory, I came here because I told you I would tell you the truth and I intend to keep my word.”
“The truth about what?” I spit back, imbuing my words with caustic venom, hoping he’ll feel just a fraction of the agony he’s inflicted on me. “It’s over Houston. There is no truth that needs to be spoken anymore.”
He shakes his head, his blue eyes filled with regret. “I wish that were true.”