Terms and Conditions: Chapter 31

There is no way Declan’s target happened to go to the Chicago Botanic Garden on a Saturday. After our whole conversation in the car, I know he planned this for me. Not that he would ever admit it. So rather than call him out on it, I go along with the whole charade. I’m far too excited about visiting the garden to ruin it by calling Declan out on his lie.

The garden is my favorite place in the entire world—sorry, Dreamland. I have so many fond memories here, dating all the way back to my childhood. My mom, Nana, and I would come here together after my Saturday tutoring sessions. Mom and I would visit all the gardens while Nana would huff and puff about her busted knee, only to be easily swayed by the pretty flowers and champagne popsicles.

I laugh as Declan grabs a map from an information stand. He doesn’t ask for my help, and I don’t bother offering it. While I know every corner of this place, watching him assess the map like we are exploring uncharted territory is far too entertaining to pass up.

He locates our current position on the map. “Is there a certain strategy to all this?”

“Strategy? It’s a garden, not a chessboard.” I laugh.

“Fair point. Then is there something in particular you want to see first?”

“Shouldn’t we go wherever the person you came to see is?” I push my lips together to prevent giving myself away.

“I don’t know where they are.” He says the lie with such ease, it unsettles me enough to push for more.

“You know, if I knew what they looked like, it would make this process a little easier. How else am I supposed to know when we need to pretend?”

Declan shuts the map, pockets it, and grabs my hand. “We don’t.”

Sparks shoot up my arm from the contact. “So, what? We just act like a couple the entire time?”

“Exactly.”

I fake groan. “But this place is huge. It could take hours before we find them.”

“Maybe even more.” He doesn’t release my hand as he leads us toward the start of a trail.

I give him another opportunity to confess. “They must be pretty important if you’re going out of your way to subject yourself to walking around a garden for hours while holding my hand.”

“You have no idea.”

I turn my head away so he doesn’t catch me smiling at his lie.

Declan wraps his arm around my waist as if we touch like this all the time. What happened to the man who struggled with touching me only two months ago? Because it seems like that version of Declan is long gone, with him using today’s fake date as an excuse to touch me however he wants.

I’m so lost in obsessing over his embrace that I almost miss my favorite part of this whole place.

“Ahh! Stop!” I pull back on Declan’s arm.

Declan halts, and I stumble from the momentum.

“What happened?” He checks the perimeter.

“You’re walking so fast that we almost missed my favorite part.”

He looks around, missing the greenhouse during his scan of the bushes behind us.

I point with my free hand at the glass structure.

“You want to go in there?”

“Yes! It’s the best place!”

“A greenhouse?”

I smile. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“I’m just surprised you prefer that over the outdoors.”

“I’ll show you why.” I all but drag him through the doors. Instantly, we are hit with a gust of humid air. Fans spray a warm mist across all the plants, and we are caught in the crossfire.

A crease appears in between his eyebrows. “Why is it so muggy?”

“Because they need to recreate the tropical climate.”

“What for?”

It excites me to know more about a topic than Declan, and I relish in the fact that he doesn’t know everything after all. “Plants like these would never normally survive the seasons here. Without a greenhouse, they would most likely die, especially in Chicago.”

He follows me as I walk through the rows of short palm trees.

“Is that the reason you keep all your plants indoors?”

“Do I need a better reason besides to annoy you with them?”

His glare makes me laugh to myself.

“Living in an apartment had many perks, but a greenhouse isn’t one of them. Not enough space.” I lead him toward the small pond at the back of the greenhouse. “You know how you have different words to express your feelings?”

He nods.

“Plants have different meanings too.” I gesture toward the lotus flower stems peeking out of the murky water. “These are my absolute favorites.”

“Why?” He pockets his hands and stares at me head-on without a flicker of emotion.

“Because it amazes me how the most beautiful flower can blossom from the worst conditions.” I check out my reflection in the murky water. “It seems silly to relate to a flower—”

“It’s not.”

I look up to find his eyes focused on me. The warmth reflecting in them encourages me to open up without worrying about the consequences. “I spent a long time underestimating myself, only to realize I needed to make it past the bad stuff and find the light.”

“Is this the reason you liked visiting the greenhouse?” He stops beside me to get a closer look at the flowers.

“The main one.”

“Any others?”

“You’re looking at it.” I spin in a circle with my arms extended, and my hands brush against a couple of leaves.

His lips press together in a poor attempt to hide his smile. “You’re a crazy plant lady.”

“Please. I haven’t officially earned that title until I have a greenhouse of my own.”

“Do you want one?”

“A greenhouse?”

“Are the pesticides in here getting to your head or are you just struggling to comprehend what I’m asking?”

“Maybe I’m struggling because you’re not asking in the first place.”

His chest heaves from a deep breath. “Would you like a greenhouse?”

“In your backyard?”

“I think we can start calling it ours, seeing as you live there too.”

My mouth opens before shutting again. “You’re offering to build me a greenhouse?”

“If only to save me from tripping over potted plants in the middle of the night when I want a goddamn glass of water.”

“Of course. How silly of me to think you wanted to build one to make me happy.”

“Anything I do is solely for my benefit.” But his grin says the exact opposite.

The warm feeling from his smile follows me as we keep walking through the greenhouse. I take the time to explain all the different plants to Declan. For someone who always seems to be taking the lead, he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered about following me.

As we step out of the greenhouse and blink up at the sun, Declan asks, “Where to next?”

I point toward the trail that will take us around the lake. “That way.”

Together, we walk hand in hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Declan asks me questions about different plants and I answer them, getting far too excited about topics like the difference between tropical and semi-tropical. He asks silly questions, half of which I’m sure are done purposefully to make me laugh.

Seriously, there is no way I willingly married someone who doesn’t know the difference between a succulent and a cactus. He seems confused about how all cacti are succulents but not all succulents are cacti, and I spend a good hour in the Arid Greenhouse with him, explaining everything I know about the different plants. Not once does he seem bored despite my nonstop chatter.

Declan, a man who doesn’t speak for longer than five-minute spans of time, spoke to me for hours. The idea makes me far giddier than it should.

It’s not until the sun begins to set that Declan steers us toward the exit.

“So, did you ever find them?”

“Who?”

I lift our interlocked hands in the air to remind him of our duty. “The reporter we came here to pretend in front of.”

“No.”

“I knew it! You can stop lying now.”

“Lying about what?”

“We didn’t come here so a reporter could see us, did we?”

His eyes lighten. “Why else would we come here?”

“Because you wanted to take me out on a date, but you didn’t want to admit it was that in the first place just in case I rejected you, so you made up this whole elaborate story so I wouldn’t ask questions.”

“Is narcissism genetic or is our child safe from that awful personality trait?”

The way he says “our child” sends a wave of something through me that I refuse to acknowledge. “Depends. If we’re going based on paternal history, they are screwed from the start.”

He reaches out and runs his thumb across my bottom lip. “Hopefully they inherit their mother’s selflessness instead.”

I officially raise the white flag as I stand on the tips of my toes and kiss him.