He was resplendent, so tall and broad-shouldered, he seemed to take up all the space in the room, all the space in my heart. His jaw was darkened by stubble, framing wide, smiling lips. But it was his eyes that nearly brought me to my knees, deep and blue and regretful. Loving and longing and hopeful.

Slowly, I moved toward him, taking in every detail. He stood before a shelf of lilies, the lilies I’d admired in his little greenhouse on the roof. But one stood apart from the rest at his side, its blooms opening to reveal lilies the color of marigold, speckled with golden flecks. It was the strain he’d been working toward for so long. He’d done it.

“You’re here,” I said, disbelieving my eyes.

“I’m here. And I’m sorry.”

Hope zinged through me, emotion gripping my throat, closing it tight. His fervent eyes held me still as he spoke.

“All my life, I’ve worked at putting two things together to make one. At a glance, they seem so different, from petal to leaf, from texture to color. But somehow, they not only work. They thrive. They don’t care whether they’re different or the same—they come together and make something new, something unexpected. All this time, I’ve bred flowers to wash away their differences, and all this time, I’ve cataloged ours. But what I didn’t count on was that it wouldn’t matter to you any more than it would to a lily. And it shouldn’t have mattered to me at all.” Something in his eyes deepened, his brows drawing with his regret. “There are so many things I wish I’d done differently, so many things I wish I’d said. But more than anything, I wish I’d realized just how much I love you.”

A shaky breath, a shock that brought my fingertips to my lips.

He glanced at his hands, swallowed hard, met my eyes again. “Love doesn’t wonder. It doesn’t question. It trusts with its whole self, as I should have. And when I looked past the things I feared, I uncovered the truth—I was afraid, and I was a fool. Can you forgive me for my pride? Can you absolve me for all the ways I hurt you? Because of all the things I want, your happiness is first and always.”

I took a step toward him. Toward us. “Only if you’ll forgive me. I made you feel like you weren’t enough when you were the only thing I wanted. I dragged you into a world you wanted no part in because I wasn’t ready to choose, convinced I could have it both ways. But in the end, there was no choice to be made. Because my perfect life isn’t perfect, not without you.” I took another step, closing the gap between us.