Chapter 2

Oliver didn't agree. He didn't refuse either.

Before he left, he draped his suit jacket over my shoulders and tossed out one line: "We'll talk tomorrow."

Thirty million was a big sum. He probably did need to sleep on it.

But the next day, the money didn't come. Cora Stephens's call came first.

"Sis, save me!"

"It's my birthday tonight, and the florist my brother hired got hospitalized at the last minute. Come cover for me, would you?"

There was a time when Cora calling me family could keep me happy half the day.

Now hearing it just felt like bad luck.

"Your future sister-in-law won't mind?"

The line went quiet for a moment.

"You know?"

"The whole internet knows."

In the end, I went anyway.

Not for Oliver.

Cora was paying. A hundred and twenty thousand.

Enough to cover two months of payroll at my studio.

I worked until eight in the evening. I'd just tucked in the last stem when there was a stir at the door.

Cora came running in with her skirt gathered in one hand, a full emerald set draped around her neck, so green it hurt my eyes.

I asked, "Your brother gave you that?"

She grinned so wide her eyes disappeared.

"Mm! He ordered it from the auction house half a year ahead of time."

"How much?"

"Not that much."

"Tell me."

"Over seventeen."

"Million?"

"Mm."

I closed my eyes for a moment. The world could be absurd sometimes.

My boyfriend gave his own sister seventeen million in jewelry.

The birthday gift he gave me was a garden trowel he'd filed down himself, cutting his hand doing it.

I'd lost a whole night's sleep back then, aching for him.

Now, thinking about it, I should have ached for myself.

"Sis!"

Cora suddenly waved at someone behind me.

"Oliver!"

I turned.

Oliver came over, a paper bag in his hand.

Not Hermès.

Not Chanel.

I was already braced for it.

Sure enough, he took a wooden box out of it.

"For you."

I opened it.

A garden spade lay inside.

Two crooked characters were carved into the handle.

Tilda Henson.

I said nothing.

Cora let out an exaggerated "Wow."

"Did you make this yourself?"

"Mm."

She looked at me with envy.

"Tilda, my brother's so good to you!"

I lifted my head and looked at Oliver.

There was a faint smugness in his eyes, like he was waiting for me to be moved.

Before yesterday, I would have been.

Now I only wanted to ask him one thing.

So, Oliver, is the greenhouse mine or not?

I closed the box.

"Thank you."

Oliver's brow drew together slightly.

"That's it?"

"What else?"

"You used to hug me when you got these."

"Oh."

I opened my arms and gave him a half-hearted little hug.

"Good enough?"

His body went rigid.

The next second, he hooked an arm around my waist so I couldn't pull back.

"Still sulking?"

"I'm not."

"Then come home with me tonight."

"That's not convenient."

"What's not convenient about it?"

I looked at him.

"You're about to have a fiancée."

The line choked him, and his expression turned ugly.

Right then the ballroom fell quiet, and a woman walked in.

White gown, long black hair, beautiful in a very proper way.

Cora's smile froze.

"What's Michelle Swanson doing here?"

I followed her gaze downward.

When I saw the sapphire brooch on the woman's chest, I finally understood why no one was speaking.

I'd seen that brooch before. It was left by the Stephens grandmother.

Oliver once said he'd give it to his future wife.

Michelle came to stand in front of us.

She glanced at me first.

Then she slid her arm through Oliver's.

"Oliver, your grandfather sent me to collect you."

Oliver didn't pull free.

He only glanced at me on reflex, and I gave him a small smile.