Even if that meant she abandoned me.

Not wanting to get any closer to that truth, I turned for another wall of the greenhouse where I kept my lilies, grabbing her hand along the way.

“What are these?” she asked as we neared a cluster of lilies between shelves, the plants waist high and branches heavy with flowers. They hung in arches, the petals extending back to the stem, making it look like a paper lantern of white, speckled with deep purple.

“Lilium duchartrei. Exotic, difficult to grow. I’ve had this plant, oh … five years or so. You can see I’ve been breeding it, but I can’t ever seem to get it to hold the shape. It always unfurls when the flowers bloom.”

She must have noted the disappointment in my voice and squeezed my hands gently. “What are you trying to accomplish?”

“Beyond getting it to keep their shape, I’d like the petals to be a different color. I’ve tried my hand at breeding it with dozens of species, but I have yet to do it. This plant is about to bloom though, see?”

I brought her closer to my latest experiment, brushing back the leaves to expose a pod that had begun to form.

“Maybe this one will be it,” she said hopefully. “And Kash, I’m sorry. For pushing you. I just don’t know any other way to be. I mean, look at me. I decided at sixteen that I was going to be a wedding planner, and every single thing I’ve done since then has been to move me in that direction. My goal in life has been to make a living—a good living—working in events. I’m just wired this way, I think. To decide something and chase it with all the tenacity I have. Which is a lot, by the way.”

“Who, you?” I teased.

“Anyway,” she said with a smile, “when you’re that intense about something, it’s hard to understand someone’s lack of intensity, if that makes sense.”

“It does. And there’s nothing to be sorry for. Last I checked, two people could disagree without someone needing to apologize for it.”

“Force of habit. Ivy thinks I show love by arguing, so I feel like I apologize a lot.”

“Well, don’t. Not to me. You can save your apologies for your sister.”

With a soft laugh, she stepped into me, winding her arms around my neck. “So how often do people come up here to bother you?”

“Never,” I said, sliding my hands down her back.

“Good. Because all these pistils and stamens in your sex palace have me all kinds of worked up.” Her thigh rose to hitch on my waist. “So are you gonna pollinate me or what?”

And like the pimp I was, I did just that.