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Chapter 54

It's been one month of Ryland coming by my apartment each morning like clockwork. Every time, he'll leave a small pot of flowers, or a bag of my favorite gummy bears, or premium cocoa for my hot chocolate, or other little knickknacks he knows I love. Some days, I'll answer the door, wanting to see his face, even if we don't say more than a few words. Other days, I don't.

But I feel my heart softening, the chains around it melting under his persistence.

Then, there are the messages he'll post online, the ones that have the media in a fervor because of the romantic nature of his words.

I pull out my phone and swipe to his post from two days ago, a photo of daffodils on his nightstand.

Ryland.Anderson.Official: Dear Little Lark, I miss your sunshine and your bright light. You are the best part of me. Without you, my life has lost meaning. You are my whirlwind.

He didn't come yesterday or this morning. Nor has he posted on his social media.

Has he given up on us?

A heavy melancholy blankets me, dulling the colors of my world to dreary shades of gray.

I sit at my bay window and stare at the streets below. Pedestrians walk around construction workers climbing on scaffolding placed over a red-bricked building across the street. A small group of people line up in front of a new art gallery around the corner. The late afternoon sun shines brightly on this beautiful New York spring day and the skies are clear of smog, the rain from two days ago having washed all the grime away.

My "auditing" of the spring quarter is ending. Projects are completed, final presentations will be in two weeks, then graduation ceremony in early June. I'm slated to start at Cornell, my dream school and my brother's alma mater, for my PhD program in the fall.

Everything is working out the way things should be. My dreams are coming true, one by one.

But there's an empty, dark hole in my heart, a cavern that seems impossible to fill. My mind wanders back to my last conversation with Ryland, and I wonder if I was too harsh on him, and if I should've given him a chance. It's funny how your mind works against you sometimes. But I know I made the right choice. After all, he gave up on us so easily before.

I have to protect myself.

And if he does the same thing again this time, then, as painful as things are right now, my heartstrings being yanked and nearly severed whenever I think of our memories together, it'll be the right decision.

After all, I deserve more.

My phone chimes and a text message flashes on the screen.

Chloe

Millie, did you hear about the new exotic plant exhibit at Central Park? Want to go? I'm not that much of a plant girl, but I want to cheer you up. I can text the other girls. We can make a girls' day out of it?

I smile. I had heard about a new exhibit being built somewhere in Central Park. The grand opening isn't for another week, but I plan to pay a visit once the crowds have thinned out after the initial excitement.

Millie

Sounds good. Maybe in a few weeks when things ease up? Don't worry about me. I'm doing well.

I hit send, then reread my words. My fingers hover over the keyboard and I type another message.

Millie

I lied. I'm not doing well, but I will be. One foot in front of the other. I'll get through this. Thank you for thinking of me.

I won't hide anymore. Not to the people I love and the people who love me back.

Chloe

Love you, Millie. I'm a call away if you ever want to chat.

Another message comes through, and I smile, seeing the name of my roommate from ULA.

Joss

Long time no chat! I'm coming to NYC next month, let's hang out?

Millie

Definitely! Keep me posted.

Clicking shut my phone, I set it to the side and stare at the light blue sky again. I close my eyes and let the warmth of the early afternoon sun wash over my face. Moments later, I hear the faint sounds of the front door opening.

"Is she asleep?"

"I don't know, but if she is, we're waking her up."

Giggling and furtive whispers reach my ears. My eyes snap open.

The sounds of footsteps echo in the hallway, and three heads pop through my opened bedroom doorway. Belle, looking as trendy as ever in her sleek white sundress, is beaming. Grace, in a colorful getup only she can pull off, is bouncing on her feet, her violet eyes barely containing her excitement. Taylor, dressed in black leggings and a crop top, purses her lips and waggles her brows.

Something is up with these three.

"What's going on, girls?"

Grace prances over and hauls me off the window seat. "Get dressed, we are going out, and we aren't taking no for an answer."

She looks at Belle and issues a command like she's a general in the throes of a war. "Go through her closet and pick out something appropriate for her to wear."

"Aye, aye, madam." Belle mock salutes and dashes to my walk-in closet.

"What's going on?" My brows hike up to my forehead.

"That's for us to know and you to find out." Grace eyes me from top to bottom. "Okay, at least you've taken a shower in the last day or so. I can work with this. I'll do your makeup and hair."

She ushers me to my chair, takes out my makeup, and gets to work. I catch Taylor's sly grin in my mirror.

Rolling my eyes, I ask, "And what are you going to do, Tay?"

Tay winks and takes out a bag of carrots from her bag and munches on one. I don't know why she's so obsessed with them. "Emotional support animal. That's me."

"You? Emotional support?" I can't help the incredulity seeping through my voice.

"Totally! I'm a breath of positive energy today. See my nose stud today? It's a smiley face."

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Do I get any say in this? Anything at all?"

"No!" A resounding chorus.

What on earth is going on now?

"Why are we here?" The girls are dragging me down 5th Avenue toward Central Park.

The crowds are bigger today—a beautiful weekend in spring after a dreary rain has drawn out locals and tourists alike. The sun is low in the skies, twirling a final pirouette before dipping into a curtsy and disappearing behind the veil of the night. The girls spent an hour primping me, dressing me in an elegant white sundress with pink roses, arranging my hair in loose waves, then applying light makeup on my face.

Despite my complaints and questions, none of them have told me what on earth is going on. And now, they are pulling me into one of the main entrances of Central Park and dressed in this getup, I feel completely out of place with the other people wearing jeans and T-shirts.

"Eeek! I'm so excited." Grace claps her hands with the enthusiasm of a toddler.

"Calm your horses, Grace. I'll reserve my approval until I see it. And even then…" Taylor sounds skeptical.

"You two. Zip it. Don't ruin it for her." Belle whips her head toward the sisters, who look down sheepishly at the ground.

A few minutes later, I see the Conservatory Garden Center Fountain in the distance. The gentle breeze rustles the leaves in the carefully groomed trees and shrubbery, the lush, vibrant green of nature calming to the senses after a long winter. A light scent of wildflowers permeates the air, especially from the sweetness of the peonies and lilacs in bloom.

As I stroll through one of my favorite places in Central Park, the Conservatory Garden, I feel the heaviness in my chest lifting and my spirits lightening. Perhaps the girls are onto something by taking me here.

Before long, we stand in front of a new building on the sprawling lawn of the Italian-style Central Garden, one of the three unique gardens in this area.

The new exotic blooms exhibit.

"What are we doing here? The exhibit doesn't open until next week. Chloe said she was going to text you guys to see if we should all go together," I murmur while I stare at the impressive structure in front of me.

The tall building sits on a raised concrete foundation and is constructed entirely of glass and copper frames, which will oxidize to a wonderful pale green in the years to come. There are intricate carvings on the windowpanes, reminding me of the palaces in Europe.

The architect and interior designer must have taken great pains to blend the building into its surroundings, because it looks like it belonged there all along. A blue cloth drapes over a large sign by the entrance. I assume it's the name of the building, which will be unveiled at the grand opening.

"Okay. Watch this. This popped on my newsfeed this morning." Belle shoves her phone in front of my face and clicks on a link which redirects to a trending video on the Gossip Times website.

"What?" I frown.

"Shh!" Belle hushes me.

My breath freezes in my throat as I see Ryland standing behind the podium, answering questions about his company's stock performance.

I look at the girls in confusion. Taylor shrugs. "Grace and I didn't know about this until Belle sent it to us this morning. Ryland didn't tell us anything either. But even I have to say I'm touched. Just watch it."

I turn my attention back to the video.

"Mr. Anderson, can you tell us why you're posting romantic messages online?" a blonde reporter asks.

Ryland stills, a muscle twitching in his jaw. The room is silent.

He slowly adjusts his gray tie and leans forward on the podium. Clearing his throat, he stares straight into the camera.

"Little lark, if you're watching this, know that you're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Gasps erupt in the room and he holds up his hand for silence.

"If I could take back everything I've done, every tear you've shed, I would. I'm so sorry for hurting you and my days are miserable without you. The only reason I'm not screaming your name at the top of my lungs is because you've sacrificed a lot for me, and I don't want to unwind your efforts. This time, my heart is laid bare at your feet. This time, the choice is yours. I love you and I know I don't deserve you. I can only hope one day you'll forgive me, and you'll give me a chance to love you once more."

He lets out a shuddering exhale, his penetrating eyes full of regret, heartache…and love.

"That's all I have to say." He stands up and walks off the stage.

"Mr. Anderson!" Reporters holler at him as the room descends into chaos. "Are you talking about Millie Callahan? Is she your little lark?"

He pauses at the foot of the stage and faces the camera again. "I'll be waiting for you," he mouths, ignoring their questions, and disappears into a back corridor.

He is a private person and I know this is a way for him to declare his love to me publicly while respecting my privacy.

He hasn't given up on us. He's telling me he chooses me and is giving me a choice this time. He's putting everything on the line…for me.

Tears spring into my eyes as I hand the phone back to Belle.

"What is this?" I whisper.

"Don't kill us, okay? Trust me, it'll all make sense later." Belle gives me a hug and a wink before backing away and the trio head back in the direction we came from.

"Wait! Where are you guys going?" I move to follow them, but Grace raises her hands to stop me.

"Ah crap! I forgot this." She rushes forward and hands me a small envelope. "Stay here and read it! Trust me! Thank us later!" With a squeal and a giggle, she spins around and hurries after the others, quickly disappearing from view.

My mind is a swirl of emotions, filled with images of him and his words to the reporters. I'm in a daze as I make my way to the graveled path up the steps leading to the entrance.

A fresh breeze blows through the garden. My fingers tremble as I tear open the envelope and take out the letter inside.

Dearest Millie,

It seems fitting the first real letter I write in my life is to the one woman I love with every beat of my heart. To be honest, I don't know how to begin—I've never written a love letter before and the small captions on social media don't quite count. But I've been told it's best to write your truth.

Life without you is not a life worth living. These past few months, without you by my side, my soul has been bereft, my world has lost its shine, and my freedom has lost its enticement.

I realize what a coward I've been in the past, disguising my fears as a cloak of responsibilities when deep down, perhaps, I'm still the little boy who has never moved beyond loss, the person who has experienced death and decided never to love again. But having met you and seeing how you live your life, taking one hard step at a time, carving out your future even when the odds are stacked against you, I understand one thing.

You are the hunter, the fighter. Your spirit will allow you to conquer and soar no matter where life takes you. You are an inspiration. You make me want to become a better man. You make my freedom have meaning.

I hope you'll find it in your heart to give me another chance to show you being with you is not an impulsive decision. It's my one craving, my true obsession.

I hope you'll give me all your tomorrows, starting with today. I hope you'll step into the sunlight with me.

Love, Ryland

My hand flies to my mouth as I re-read every passionate word, every fervent promise. His public declaration at the press conference echoes in my ears.

The thumping in my chest intensifies, and I look up.

I see him.

I'm rooted to the ground as I see the tall, powerful man stepping out of the building and walking toward me with determination on his handsome face. My heart pounds rapidly in my chest, frantic and ecstatic to see its other half nearby. His pendant feels heavy around my neck, and every cell of my body comes to life.

He still steals my breath and robs me of speech.

My fingers automatically clutch the jeweled key in my hand, and I blink several times, wondering if he's a hallucination. But he's still there, striding toward me in his perfectly tailored navy suit, crisp white shirt opened at the collar. His dark hair is swept up and perfectly tousled.

Ryland's dark gray eyes are pinned on me, the penetrating intensity reminding me of the first day I met him when he berated me in front of class for being late.

I knew it then and I know it now. This man has left an indelible print on my heart and my life will never be the same after him.

My lips part as my breathing quickens, and he quickly makes his way down the steps and reaches me in a matter of seconds.

"Millie," he whispers my name reverently, his eyes warming with so much love, my chest actually hurts from being so close to him. "You look beautiful."

"Ryland, you planned this?" I hold up the letter in my hand.

Another gust of wind blows by, and a few loose curls of hair fall over my face. Ryland reaches out and hesitates for a second before tucking the strands behind my ear. Then he lightly trails his fingers over my cheek.

My skin lights up. And all it took was a simple, fleeting touch.

"I read every single word you wrote in your letters, Millie. I don't have a way with words, not like you, but I need you to know how much I want you, how much I need you. Please forgive me if I haven't given you enough time." His words are hurried, urgent, as if he's afraid I'll deny him.

He continues, "I want to show you I'm serious about us. I'm not going to hide our relationship from the world. I was lost in the maze inside my mind for the longest time, but you, Millie," he gently clutches my hand, the one holding the pendant around my neck, and curls his palm around it, "you showed me the way out. You showed me how I'm not alone anymore and I have people to lean on, people who'll never leave me."

He cups my cheeks in his hands, his eyes taking on a wet sheen. "My heart has lived outside of me ever since I met you. I foolishly thought I could live without my heart, and I would save you from my prison…from me. But I was wrong, and I hurt you. I wish I could go back in time and take all the pain away, but I know I can't. I can only ask you to let me make it up to you for the rest of my life, starting with today."

My eyes well and my words are stuck in my throat. He looks so sincere, so desperate, so irrevocably in love with me. My heart teeters at the edge, wanting desperately to leap into his embrace once more.

As if sensing my hesitation, he presses a soft kiss on my forehead before gently interlacing his fingers with mine and tugging me up the steps toward the main entrance of the glass building.

"I would've brought you here sooner, but there was a lot of red tape to get through—permits, board meetings, designs, construction. I even tried to help with some of the manual labor. That was why I didn't stop by your apartment the last two days—last minute issues to take care of here." He stops in front of the large plaque covered in cloth.

Ryland glances at me, a pulse feathering his cheek, and he swallows nervously. He takes a deep breath and pulls the cloth away.

My heart flies to my mouth and my lips part in a gasp.

The Millie Callahan Exotic Botanical Greenhouse Conservatory.

"The admission will be free all year round, so people in all stages of life and all income levels can access beautiful flowers because…nature should be free." His voice is thick, impassioned.

"The upkeep is funded by a new endowment set up by the Anderson family—specifically out of a portion of my funds. It's perpetual. The funds will continue after my time on this earth. A press release is slated to be published tomorrow."

He heard me that day at New Beginnings. My words—he remembered.

My lips tremble as I reread my name carved into the granite for the world to see. Then his words register in my mind.

"P-Press release? Then everyone will know you built a greenhouse for me. And what about what you said at the press conference this morning?"

His eyes widen. He's clearly surprised at my mention of the press conference. He didn't know I saw it.

I clutch his arm. "There'll be gossip again. They'll connect the dots with what you posted on social media and your responses to the reporters. What about your reputation, your fam—"

He presses his finger softly on my lips, his touch reverent. "I don't care if the world knows. I want the world to know you've captured my heart and brought me back to life. You've freed me from the prison of myself. I want everyone to know how I'm desperately, madly, and irrevocably in love with you and that will never change, much like this building will be here forever."

"Ryland." I press a kiss on his finger, my arms looping around his neck automatically, my body no longer able to hold itself back from him. All the lingering doubts vanish from my mind and I don't want to be separated from him any longer.

He groans and rasps, "Does this mean you'll give me a chance? Does this mean you'll forgive me for my idiocy?"

My lips tremble before splitting into a wide smile.

"Well," I let out a shaky breath, "that was a very good grovel, I must admit."

He laughs, his smile lighting up his entire face.

"Thank fuck," he murmurs before swooping down and sealing his lips to mine.

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