His Greatest Treasure (Greatest Love #4)

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

AVERY

Nova pushes me along the sidewalk, her giggles loud and proud for everyone to hear ten kilometres away. The blindfold Gracie helped her tie around my head is snug, making the world pitch-black. With my arms outstretched, I focus on not stumbling on the uneven concrete.

“Please don’t make me trip,” I plead with them both.

Nova giggles again and stops pushing so hard on my back. “Sorry, Mom.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m excited too.”

“Me three, and I already know what’s waiting for you,” Gracie says.

“Oliver’s here, right?”

I sound as shy as I do hopeful. After seeing him at the station yesterday, I’ve been antsy, to say the least. Sleep didn’t come easy last night, and I tossed and turned for hours with his voice speaking soft promises to me in my mind.

Maybe I should have just gone over and barged into his house after watching his SUV pull up his driveway last night, but the anticipation almost makes this . . . sweeter.

Now, I’m just ready to take off down the sidewalk and run into his arms. He’ll catch me. There’s no doubt about it .

“He’s here. About ready to crash through the door and grab you, from what I see,” Gracie teases.

I make note of the tidbit of information and pay attention to anything else that can give away our location. A long sidewalk and noisy street that smells like freshly ground coffee . . .

“Is he done with his work now?” Nova asks, her Crocs making scuffing noises on the sidewalk.

“He’s done, sweetie pie. I’m sure he won’t leave the two of you alone now until he has to go back.”

I don’t make a habit of pulling Nova out of school early, but when I stepped onto the porch this morning to a box of Nova’s favourite cookies and a bouquet of flowers so massive they were hardly contained in their crystal vase, I would have said yes to just about anything.

He didn’t have to ask me to pull her out early, and I doubt he ever would. The moment I saw the handwritten note tucked into the flowers with all of the information for today, I made that choice all on my own.

I want her to be here for whatever it is he has planned, and she didn’t have any arguments about a half day of school.

“Okay!” Nova squeaks. Her pace quickens.

A warm, dainty hand wraps around mine and leads me forward until we come to a stop. My heart jumps into my throat when I hear the sound of a door opening and feel the brush of wind on my face from its swing.

The scent of lemon hits me first. It’s a gut feeling, a tingle at the back of my neck that tells me where we are. A sense of rightness fills me, and I smile without hesitation.

“Hi, Ollie!” Nova shrieks, hands falling from my back as her shoes scuff the ground again.

Oliver’s low, gruff laugh brings goosebumps to my arms. “Hey, peanut. Thank you for getting your mom here for me.”

“You’re welcome,” Nova says before a soft jingling fills the shop. “I made this for you, Ollie. ”

A pause. “For my keys?”

“Yep. Mom has some too. I made you a blue one!”

My throat tightens. Without looking, I know she’s handed him the key chain she made last night before bed.

“I love it. Thank you, Nova.”

“You’re welcome!”

What do you say we take her blindfold off now? Then you can help me put this on my keys?”

“Can I?”

“’Course you can.”

More shoe scuffing, and then I feel her behind me. I bend at the knees so she can reach the tie of the blindfold easier. She gives it a tug, and it falls to the floor.

Blinking at the sudden light in my eyes, I release a laugh. “Thank you, Nova.”

“Look, Mom. Look!”

I search for Oliver first. He’s already looking at me when I find him, his eyes bright and clear. There isn’t a smirk or a scowl on his lips, but a smile. A wide, happy one that spears right through my chest.

“Princess,” he murmurs.

“ Butternalle .”

“Did you like the flowers?”

“There were no roses again,” I tease.

“I’ll tuck one inside next time if you’re missing them that badly.”

“Next time?”

He moves, coming closer to me. “I’d spend my last dollar buying flowers for you, Avery.”

The declaration is spoken without hesitation, another promise that buries itself deep in my soul.

A sniffle comes from beside me, and I turn my head to look at Gracie. Her tear-streaked cheeks are alarming to me, but Oliver only shakes his head at her, humour lining his expression .

“Need a moment, Ma?” he asks her.

She rolls her eyes at him and pats at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’ll be in the backroom to give you some time alone.”

“There are tissues by the sink,” Oliver teases before she steps into the other room with a light punch to his shoulder.

I watch her leave and then finally allow myself the time to look around the shop. Each new addition makes me feel one breath away from following after Gracie and bursting into tears.

It’s far from what it was the last time I was here. A real flower shop is what it is now. One with life and colour and love embedded in the painted walls.

“Wow,” I breathe.

“Do you like it?” Oliver asks softly.

“I love it. It’s . . . beautiful. Perfect.”

Everything from the new countertop installed, floor-to-ceiling shelving units built along the wall, and soft yellow curtains hung on the window was purchased with thought and care. I turn in a slow circle, taking in all of the new changes, when I see one that has me sucking in a breath.

Nova’s Corner has been painted in colourful cursive on the wall above a small table and chairs decorated with matching doodles. Frogs, ballet slippers, tutus, flowers, and a plate of red Jell-O have been painted on the tabletop. The two chairs have small pink pillows on the seats to match the armchairs on the other side of the shop.

“Did you do this yourself?” I ask, dragging my palm over the back of a chair.

“I had help. Rebecca painted the table and helped pick out the furniture. All I wanted was for Nova to have someplace for herself here. I know that you’ll want her here with you as much as possible, and this way, you can both have your own space. You can work, and she can draw or read or anything she wants to do. I hope I didn’t overstep,” he says, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck .

Emotion clogs my throat as I nod and give a weak smile. Happiness overflows inside of me to the point I’m struggling not to choke on it.

“It’s perfect, Oliver. Honestly. So perfect.”

His grin is beaming, as if maybe his happiness is as striking as mine.

The pile of large Styrofoam plates and handful of paint bottles on the table have me turning to where Oliver’s watching me with Nova at his side.

“What are these for?”

The two of them come my way, and then Oliver’s taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. I hold my breath, watching him kiss each of my knuckles before releasing my hand in exchange for my waist. He holds it with a steady, sure grip, each one of his fingertips searing through my shirt and into my skin.

“While I made some changes and fixes to this place, it’s still yours. I tried to keep that clear throughout every change I made or item I brought in. But this is for you and Nova. I thought you could finish the walls off with your handprints. To mark it as yours.”

There’s no stopping my tears now. They spill out with a vengeance, and the second a sob slips up my throat, he’s frowning, hands holding my cheeks.

A smaller body pushes between us, and two arms wind around my chest before Nova’s pressing her face to my stomach. I watch through a blurry gaze as Oliver curls his other arm around her and tucks us both into him.

“It’s okay, Mom. I want to do it. Do you?” Nova asks.

Oliver holds my gaze and swipes his thumb over my flushed skin. I lean into the touch and close my eyes for a breath, more tears dripping.

When I open them again, he’s still watching, waiting for me to tell him I don’t like his idea. But that’s not why I’m crying.

“It’s a perfect idea, Oliver,” I say on a shaky exhale, still gathering my bearings and confidence. “But I don’t only want two handprints on these walls.”

“What?”

Nova tips her head back to look at me, appearing just as confused as him.

“If we’re going to mark this place, I want to do it as a family. And there’s another member of our family now,” I say.

Before Nova can ask questions, I remove her arms from around me and gather her hands in mine. She watches with interest as I drop to my haunches in front of her.

“Nova, baby, how would you feel if I said I wanted Oliver to be my boyfriend?”

She shrugs a shoulder, grinning. “Cool!”

I laugh softly. “Do you know what that would mean?”

“Yeah. You kiss each other.”

“We would, yes. But it also means that he’ll be around a lot. He would stay at the house sometimes and be there for breakfast and supper. And he’d even take you to ballet with me and pick you up from school from time to time.”

Her eyes grow wide as she whips around to stare up at him. “Really?”

“Yeah, peanut. I’ll be around for as long as you want me to be.”

“So always! Yay! This is awesome,” Nova shouts, launching herself into his arms. He holds her with ease, smoothing down her hair instead of ruffling it the way she hates.

I take another long look at them, memorizing the sight and bliss it brings me before dropping my eyes to the table once again. Picking up the bottle of yellow paint, I pop the cap and squirt a huge circle of it onto the centre of a plate.

“We’re putting it in writing,” I declare. “No take backs. No running.”

Oliver sets Nova down beside me at the table and takes a plate before squirting blue paint onto it .

“To always having prank wars and laughing with each other,” he says.

Nova, having watched us, reaches for the pink paint. Oliver offers her a plate of her own, and she squirts way too much paint onto the plate. I don’t mention it.

“What do you want from me and Oliver, sweetheart?”

“Like, as a present?” she asks, setting the paint bottle back on the table.

Oliver stares down at her intently. “As a promise. What could we do to make you happy?”

“Oh,” she mutters. “Can we go swimming in the ocean together?”

“We can go every single day if that will make you happy,” he swears.

“Okay. I want to have funny stories to tell my friends.”

The reminder of that conversation about Chris is painful, but I take it on the chin, knowing it’s better to be reminded than for her to trap it down and pretend her feelings don’t exist. I know she’ll make a million memories with Oliver, many of them funny enough to tell her friends about.

Our future is bright, and while she doesn’t fully understand what’s happening yet, she will. And I know Oliver will make it easy for her to love him the way he loves her.

“Press your palm into the paint, and then put your hand on the wall, sweetheart. Oliver and I will put our handprints beside yours,” I tell her.

She nods eagerly and smooshes her hand into the pink paint. I reach over and help when she presses too hard and the paint squishes up between her fingers.

Giggling, she lets me guide her hand to the wall beside where Nova’s Corner is written. I instruct her to spread her fingers, and when she presses her palm to the wall, I smile.

“Perfect, Nova,” I praise.

She pulls her hand from the wall and cheers before saying, “Your turn, Mom! ”

I coat my hand in yellow paint and hover it over the wall, her handprint on my left. With soft pressure, I let my handprint join hers.

Oliver kisses the top of my head and keeps close while coating his hand and pressing it to the wall on the opposite side of Nova’s, sandwiching hers between ours.

One hand big, one tiny, and the last medium-sized.

A family, now written in stone.