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Lola leaps onto the mattress without complaint and climbs under the covers. Marlow helps her arranges her stuffed animals and then grabs her copy of Madeline from the nightstand.
I’m tempted to go in and take over, but I stop myself, more curious to see how this plays out.
“This is Madeline,” Lola tells Marlow as she clutches the book tightly to her chest. “Daddy reads it to me every night. Someday, I’m going to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower just like Madeline,” she grins.
“I love Madeline too. It’s one of my favorites,” Marlow says. “Would you like me to read it while we wait for your dad?”
Lola nods. “Yes, please.”
Marlow joins her on the bed, and Lola snuggles in next to her, eagerly handing her the book.
“Thanks,” Marlow murmurs as she opens to the first page.
She’s just started reading when Lola interrupts her. “Hey, Marlow.”
“Yeah, lolabug?”
“I love you,” Lola whispers as she wraps her arm around Marlow’s waist.
I’m rooted to the spot at my daughter’s declaration. I’ve never heard her say those three words to anyone except my parents and me, not even my siblings. Marlow is misty-eyed as she looks down at my daughter with adoration and devotion.
We could be a real family someday.
The thought doesn’t cause me panic or confusion. In fact, I’m thinking of ways I could make it a reality.
“I love you too,” Marlow says reverently as she strokes Lola’s hair.
She glances in my direction, her eyes widening when she finds me standing in the doorway. I smile at her, encouraging her to continue.
As she goes back to reading, I realize that I’m falling in love with Marlow Taylor too. All I can do now is hope that the life Lola and I have to offer is enough for her. Because if she leaves Aspen Grove, I don’t think Lola and I will ever recover.
29
MARLOW
“MARLOW?” DYLAN SHOUTS FROM DOWNSTAIRS.
“I’m in my studio,” I yell back.
I’m adding the finishing touch to a red and yellow tulip when he walks through the door with a giant vase of flowers in one hand and a blanket in the other. He looks irresistibly charming in charcoal-gray slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a cobalt-blue tie. His hair is tousled like he’s run his hand through it all day, and he’s grinning from ear to ear.
I’ll never get tired of seeing him smile.
I turn my music off and set my palette knife down on my worktable.
“I missed you today,” he says, coming over to kiss me. “I got these for you.” He hands me a bouquet that includes pink carnations, purple alstroemeria, white poms, purple statice, lavender and pink spray roses.
The past few weeks with Dylan and Lola have been perfect. Dylan is constantly coming up with thoughtful gestures to show that he cares, and my heart nearly burst when Lola told me that she loved me last week.
“They’re beautiful.” I take the vase with shaky hands and set it on a nearby shelf. “What’s the occasion?”
“Yesterday, you mentioned that your last arrangement wilted, so I stopped by Blooms on my way home to get you a fresh one. I know how important having a bouquet for inspiration means to you.”
He remembers me saying that?
I’m overwhelmed with emotions. Of everything Dylan’s done for me, this holds the most significance. Throughout the years, I’ve bought myself countless bouquets, but not once has anyone given me one. It’s everything to me that he listened and did something kind simply because he knew it would bring me joy.
“That’s incredibly thoughtful of you.” My voice trembles as tears well in my eyes.
