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“How are things with Jackson?” her mother asked, not letting go.
Lexi exhaled. “I don’t know. I’m trying to be sanguine, but he’s got a lot on his plate, and I don’t know if I’m something he wants to prioritize.”
“Oh, I think he does,” her mother murmured.
“How can you say that?” Lexi buried her face deeper in the soft folds of her mother’s scarf, something she wore as a style statement, not because of any scars.
Her mother squeezed her gently, then released, putting her hands on Lexi’s shoulders as she eyed her seriously. “Because I know that man cares about you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I thought he did.” His kisses certainly said so. “But I wonder if there will ever be a right time. He’s so busy with a hundred other things.”
“I think you’ll find he cares.”
“How?”
“Why don’t you turn around and see?”
So she did, and her heart missed several beats. Jackson stood not six feet away, holding a bunch of red roses and a penitent expression.
* * *
He tooka step forward then faltered, unable to read her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He wanted to ask the same but figured that would sound rude to her mom, who had spied him several minutes ago. “I thought you’d left.”
“I did. To come here.”
“Ellie said you’d gone. And I panicked and thought you’d left for Australia without saying goodbye, and I … I …” Oh, sheesh. He blinked back an unfamiliar burn.
Her face softened. “Jackson. Did you really think I would be so cruel?”
He shook his head. “That’s the thing.” His voice cracked. “I didn’t think you could be. You’ve been so gracious and kind, and I know I don’t deserve your friendship, let alone anything more. But I …” He glanced up. Mrs. Franklin had disappeared. “Can we go talk somewhere?”
“Sure.”
He handed her the roses, and okay, maybe roses were a dumb idea, because now she had to use both arms to carry them when all he wanted was to hold her close. Or at least hold her hand. But he’d thought the gesture of flowers might seem romantic, might win her over. Or back. Or whatever. They moved outside to a stone path that led away from the imposing building, past some trees to a bench under a tree positioned to best capture the view of the lake. “Lexi, I—”
She stole the rest of his apology in her kiss, his expensive roses tipping to the ground as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He kissed her back fervently, ardently, reverently, his mind spinning, his heart twirling with gladness, like batons at a Fourth of July parade.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed against her mouth, their foreheads touching. “I say dumb things sometimes.”
“I do, too. I guess that makes us perfect then.”
“Us.” He kissed her again, long, deep, and thorough. “I like us.”
Her smile sent shards of rainbow light through his chest. “I like you.”
“Yeah? Well, I don’t know if the roses were a clue, but I love you, Lexi Franklin, ma’am.”
She laughed, and he took that as a good sign, gesturing for her to sit with him. She collected the roses and placed them beside her. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you.”
“It’s hard to find nice roses that say I’m sorry and I love you.”
She stroked a petal. “These work.”
He grasped her hand. “Lexi, I want us to work. I know there are things I need to sort out, but I’m trying to trust God. I’m trying to trust others. It’s hard to let go when I’m used to being in control. Or at least fooling myself into thinking I’m doing okay.”
