Relief floods her face, which I find odd. Everything she does is perfect, so it's surprising to me she would question anything, especially when it involves baking. She asks, "What have you been doing all day?"

Nervous flutters kick off in my gut. I admit, "I had to go to town for some stuff. I'm going to go work for a few hours, but are you up for a walk later in the afternoon? We can go check out what the workers have been doing in the garden."

Her face lights up. "Sure, I'd love to go see it."

"Great." I stare at her another moment, then tear my eyes off her and leave the room.

When I get to my father's office, I shut the blinds so I can't see everything the workers are doing to get the garden ready for the wedding. I have to work. I somehow force myself to concentrate on what I need to do and get way more done than I anticipated.

At four o'clock, my mind begins wandering again with visions of Georgia's smiling face. I decide I've done enough and leave to find her. She's near the front hall when I walk in, wearing the cowboy boots I got her. She never seems to take them off, which makes me happy. It's always a reminder that I got one thing right.

She announces, "There you are. I was going to find you."

My heart pounds faster. It's innocent, but I like that she was thinking about me. I open the closet and remove the new coat I bought for her. It's a slim-cut, button-up, light denim blue jacket. It has a cream Sherpa lining and an oversized collar that lays flat on the shoulders. "I got this for you when I was in town."

She gazes at it, then puts her hand over the material. "It's really soft."

"So you like it?" I ask, wanting more than ever for her to say yes, and to know that I got one more thing right about her.

She smiles. "Of course! I love it."

I give myself an internal high five, then hold the jacket out for her to slip into. She does, and I lead her outside.

We don't talk on the way to the secret garden. My stomach continues to flip, and I motion for her to go through the door first.

She steps in and freezes. "Wow!"

I glance around and admit, "It looks amazing."

The last of the workers have left. She studies everything, and as much as I'm impressed by the landscape, she's the only thing I can look at.

"They got it done so quickly," she mutters.

"I'm having the glass ceiling washed a few hours before the ceremony to remove any new residue," I inform her. It had a thorough cleaning, and the inserts were placed on the sides so that it's not as cold, but I'm going to make sure everything's sparkling clean.