“Now I’m second-guessing, couch girl. Should I take you to bed or show you your surprise?”
I squeal in his arms. “My surprise? There’s more?”
He nods. “I hope you like it.”
The hint of nervousness in his voice piques my interest. I used to hate surprises until Zander, but over the last year, he has given me some of the best memories, and now I’m no longer scared of the unfamiliar.
“Show me.”
Taking my hand, Zander leads me to the back of our house. It’s not the same barren land anymore, but there’s a fence bordering our wide property. Zander and I walk further in, and I suck in a quick breath. On the other side of the flowing creek sits a gazebo.
Oh my God!
A real gazebo plucked out from some postcard or painting, with a turquoise roof and shining white pillars. There’s a white wooden bridge that connects the gazebo to a garden, which is filled with roses of different colors. It’s a rose garden.
“Zander.” His name falls as a whisper from my lips as my heart races against my chest.
“How is the surprise?”
“I… I don’t know what to say.” My legs shake as I’m hit by overwhelming emotions. “How? I…didn’t even know so…many colors existed.” I caress a soft rose petal between my fingers. It has pink insides and deep red edges. So pretty.
“I learned to graft from my father. I made this in his memory, for you.” Zander pulls on his tie, looking around nervously before his gaze finally settles on me.
I suck in a breath. “You made this? On your own?” Is he for real? Do guys do things like this? Gifts, I understand. But making someone a garden?
“With some help.”
“But when?” When did he even have time for all this?
“I might have played hooky a few times over the past few months. Don’t tell anyone. It doesn’t make a good impression when employees learn that their CEO is gardening during office hours.” He winks playfully, but his nervous voice isn’t fooling me. “You want to look around?” He holds my hand after placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.
We walk hand in hand through our garden and finally through the heavenly footbridge to the gazebo. My heart skips a beat at the sight of a couch and a coffee table, where there’s an ice bucket with champagne and two flutes.
How did I get so lucky?
My throat chokes with emotions, but I tap them down. I want to smile and laugh today, not cry.
Zander opens the champagne bottle and fills the glasses with the bubbly pink liquid. But before handing me the drink, he bends down and grabs an envelope from under the table.
“Congratulations on our new house, couch girl.”
“What’s this?” I look at the envelope he just placed in my hands.
“Open it,” he mouths, and I pull out a few A4-sized papers, which look like legal documents. My eyes quickly scan the words, and my stomach ties in knots as I realize what I’m reading.
He named our home. My house.
The Rose House.
His over-the-top, beyond-thoughtful gift feels like a hundred-ton weight has been put on my shoulders.
“What’s this?” The so-familiar-but-recently-forgotten feeling of loneliness surrounds me. My throat thickens, signaling an onset of silent tears.
“I—I thought you would like it.” Zander quickly places the champagne bottle on the coffee table before looking at me carefully, already aware that I’m no fan of this surprise.
“I don’t like it at all.” My voice breaks. “Why do I own the house?”
“Rose, because it’s ours?”