This is the most stressful thing that’s ever happened to me.
In the middle of Gram’s office—my office, now, I guess—Daisy and Ell sit huddled over the desk, flipping through my sketchbook of designs. Every now and then, a small hmm escapes them, or they’ll point to something and murmur to each other. No one except Gram has seen my sketches, and Miles occasionally when he’d peer over my shoulder during lunch. It feels like my entire soul is getting judged right now.
I’m itching to pace, so on edge that I’d run laps at this point, but I pretend to be cool and collected. I’ve resorted to reorganizing the bookshelves, which have about an inch of dust on them. Noted.
“Wow,” Ell finally says, closing the cover. I can’t tell what kind of wow it is. The type that’s meant to stall while she figures out how to let me down easy, or the impressed kind.
“It’s okay if you don’t like them,” I rush out, jamming a book so hard onto the shelf that the whole thing rattles. So much for cool and collected. “They’re just drafts, really. I can keep working on them.”
“Lily—” Daisy starts, but Ell finishes.
“They’re incredible.”
My anxious shelving halts. I scan their faces for any hint of a lie. “Really?”
“Seriously, these designs are gorgeous. You have a broad range, some chic, some classic. I think this could really be something.”
My heart skips at Ell’s encouragement. “I can scan copies and send you them?”
She stands. “That would be amazing. We have a huge meeting in a few weeks for the Rosewood Inc. board, so I’d love to plant the idea then and show a few of these designs. I know you’ll be busy with school, but maybe we can set up a monthly meeting to touch base about it? And any other updates.”
“Can I be part of it?” Daisy asks.
“Of course,” I say. “I want you to be.”
Ell shoulders her bag, turning to my cousin. “And you’ll put together the list of influencers you think we should send PR packages to?”
Daisy nods. “I already posted a vid asking for interest. A bunch of people have reached out, including some friends. They’re really excited. Anything Rosewood adjacent is kind of sensational right now.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“We have seen an uptick in sales the past four weeks,” Ell comments. “Your TikTok campaigns are giving us great organic reach.”
I beam at Daisy. While I’ve spent the past month learning more about Rosetown and setting up the foundation with Frank, she’s focused her efforts on social media, boosting local businesses and Rosewood Inc. products.
“The garden gang knows what’s up,” I commend.
“They sure do,” Ell says. She pulls us both into a hug. “I’ll put something on the calendar for a September meeting. In the meantime, feel free to text whenever. And visit! Milan is so close, and, Lily, you should definitely come during one of your breaks.”
“I will,” I say, and I mean it. The past few weeks, Ell has been wildly supportive, almost sharing too much about Rosewood Inc. and her new responsibilities. Gram was right. I wouldn’t have a clue what to do in her role.
Once the door closes, Daisy squeals. “Those designs were so good! Can you imagine an entire line of dresses? I think this is exactly what Rosewood Inc. needs. Brands can’t stay stuck on the same thing forever. They have to grow.”
“It’d be pretty cool if it works out,” I say, trying to reel in my expectations because this project would likely take years to launch. And that’s just as well with me. I want to be a major part of it but not until I’m ready.
“Pretty cool,” Daisy mimics, rolling her eyes. “It’d be fucking awesome. And, by the way, I want you to make me like three of those dresses before I leave.”
“Don’t count on it, given you leave in, like, twenty hours,” I laugh as we make our way across the great room. It’s the same and yet different. There’s still the leather couch and the round tables. But the chaise in the corner has Daisy’s jean jacket over it, and a pair of my flip-flops rests by the kitchen doorway. There’s a fleece blanket still rumpled from where I left it on the couch, and we broke one of the blinds the other week, so the wooden slats are skewed. It’s lived in, something it really never seemed like before.
She toes at the expensive rug beneath our feet. If I look closely, I can barely make out the stain from the cake fiasco at Gram’s party. The memory is faded, like it’s been years since.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” She glances at me with concern. “I don’t have to go to Milan. I can stay here with you.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. It’s only until December. I’ll be busy with senior year and applying to FIT and other schools. Plus learning more Rosewood Inc. stuff. I’ll come visit for fall break, and you’ll be home before I blink.”
She looks doubtful. “Have you heard anything from your mom yet?”
I shake my head. “You?”
She shakes hers. “It’s like they just disappeared.”
“Well, you know what Frank said about yours,” I remind her. “When people are on the run from harmful partners, they go off the grid.”
I don’t say what hangs between us. That my mom has no excuse. I found her on Facebook, apparently living in France. Despite messaging her two weeks ago, I didn’t receive a reply.
“What about things with Dad?” Daisy asks.
I shrug, continuing toward the kitchen. “We have plenty of verified accusations, plus that video evidence of him sneaking onto the manor property after the will reading thanks to Gram’s back-gate camera. We’re just waiting on the trial. He’s in jail without bail until then.”
She gives me a look. “You can’t handle everything alone.”
“I’ll be okay,” I reassure her. “Besides—I’m not alone.”
I open the sliding glass door, and we step onto the patio. Leo sees us first from his spot on a lounger. His face lights up, and my heart does a silly little dance inside my chest. Even though he’s been here a lot in the past month, it still leaves me breathless to see him here, so casual and cool like it’s been this way all along.
He waves, his arm fresh out of his cast and a few shades lighter than the rest of his tanned olive skin. “Did Ell like the designs?”
“You bet!” Daisy crows. “They’re incredible. Ell’s pitching the idea for the dresses line at the next board meeting.”
Leo pumps his fist into the air, and Caleb cheers, climbing out of the pool. I bow my head to hide my burning face, not quite able to believe that something I’ve conceptualized might have a real shot at being on a rack.
Quinn’s on another lounger, tucked under a massive beach umbrella. She flashes a victorious grin that Daisy rivals, the two of them holding eye contact just a smidge too long.
Miles breaks the surface of the water, blond hair plastered to his face. “What are we cheering for?”
“Our favorite millionaires are about to get richer,” Leo says, a playful glint in his gray eyes.
Miles nods approvingly, a relaxed smile on his face as he joins us on the patio. “Love that for us.”
“Can we eat lunch yet?” Quinn asks, flicking Leo’s ear. “I’m starving.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s nothing sour about it as he grabs a plate from the table laden with . . . well, something. I had to quit my job at the deli because I’ve been so busy, but Leo works there now with Miles. Except he spends most of his shifts whipping up strange creations in the kitchen with Nonna. After his brush with death, he stood up to his parents, refusing to spend any more time participating in their family feud.
From a small speaker “Sweet Caroline” plays softly. Daisy’s eyes light up, and I roll mine. But it’s with fondness. Like her, it’s grown on me, except for when she makes me scream the bum bum bums at the top of my lungs.
Today, she spares me, as Caleb stares at Leo’s concoction doubtfully. “I thought we were having grilled cheese.”
“Better,” Leo says, picking up a slice of homemade sourdough bread with orange cheese dripping over the crust. “It’s deconstructed nachos. I made it with my nonna last week. Try it.”
Quinn grabs a slice, always ready to be a taste tester for the bizarre recipes Leo cooks up. “It’s not bad,” she says around a mouthful.
“You’re not exactly selling it,” Miles comments, taking his own slice.
I stay standing, clearing my throat. “I want to talk to you all about something.”
“We,” Daisy corrects, standing beside me.
“You breaking up with us?” Miles jokes.
“Are you mad I popped the flamingo pool floatie?” Leo asks. “Because, in my defense, it was Quinn.”
She jams her elbow in his side, and he lets out an oof. “It wasn’t my idea to try to surf on it in a pool.”
“It’s not about the flamingo,” I say, although damn, I did really like that one. “It’s about the money Gram left for you.”
My bluntness elicits silence and wide eyes.
“It’s cool,” Leo says. “I mean, you know we’re your friends. It’s not like we’re hanging around for that.”
“We know,” Daisy says. “But you still get your cuts. You, too, Miles, since we couldn’t have finished the hunt without you. We’re sorry it’s taken so long. There was a ton of boring bank shit to work out first.”
I know they’re my friends. I know. But there’s still a thistle of fear that they’ll ditch me like my others did after Dad died. I take a deep breath. “We created irrevocable trust accounts for each of you, which means I can’t alter them or take the money back. You can fully access them at eighteen, but until then I can just give you whatever money you want, since I’m the grantor. Each currently holds thirty-five million dollars. That’s slightly less than the original fifteen percent we agreed upon, since now it’s being split four ways instead of three. I hope that’s all right.”
Their jaws drop. “I think we’ll manage,” Caleb says, breathless. “That’s a lot of money.”
“Yeah, that sounds pretty sweet,” Leo agrees.
“There’s more.” Daisy nods at me to continue.
I force myself to sound detached, businesslike, as if it’s just another meeting. “A lot of the money is currently invested in Rosewood Inc. Obviously, you don’t have to keep it that way. But if you did, you’d be shareholders with Daisy and me. You’d grow with the company, and we’d be happy to work together to come up with roles within Rosewood Inc. that align with your interests, so should you want to, you could work there someday, which we’re hoping to do. Especially if this new line takes off, we’ll need a lot more help in the next four or five years. We want people we can trust. You’d still go to school, get a degree, everything would be covered.”
“Seriously?” Miles asks.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Daisy adds.
Leo looks at me in that way he has, like he’s seeing right through me. I can’t help but be selfish and want him to choose the second option, a tether to keep him at my side. We’re still wading through the murky space of friends who occasionally make out to something more, but he’s become a constant in my life, someone I depend on.
I’ve gotten better at it.
Finally, he shrugs. “Easy answer for me. I get to hang out forever with my two favorite girls? It’s a deal.”
My smile is impossible to contain and my cheeks heat as relief surges through me.
“Hey.” Quinn feigns hurt. “I’m your favorite girl, too.”
“Only when you’re not pestering me about lunch.” He grins at her.
“Sounds good to me,” Miles says, his smile as radiant as ever. “Thank you.”
Daisy looks expectantly at Quinn.
“I need to think on it,” Quinn answers.
Daisy frowns, and Quinn backpedals. “It’s not like that doesn’t sound sweet. But I kind of miss traveling, and might want to go abroad for school, so . . .” She shrugs. “But thanks.”
“Sure,” Daisy replies.
It’s clear she was hoping for an immediate yes like Leo, but Quinn isn’t the yes girl. Daisy should know that better than anyone given how they agreed to take their friendship rebuild at a glacial pace despite the chemistry for something more still lingering. They’re both just too stubborn to admit it.
“I appreciate it so much, but I have to think, too,” Caleb says. “So count me as a maybe?”
“Definitely,” I say. “And even if you choose not to keep it invested, we’ll always be here for you, and you’ll always have a place to stay.” I gesture at the manor.
“We have a surprise for you, too.” Leo stands. He finishes his deconstructed nacho grilled cheese in one bite, strolling across the patio as the others follow.
“What is it?” I ask as Daisy and I exchange a confused look.
“You’ll see.”
We traipse through the overgrown lawn. We haven’t hired a new yard person yet, although the one area Daisy and I have been maintaining is the graveyard by the willow tree. After a full year of never visiting, Daisy and I now eat lunch there some days when it’s just us at the manor. I had been afraid no flowers would grow on Dad’s grave. But they have, marigolds and zinnias blooming and the alder tree that started as a seed in fresh dirt at the edge of the clearing now a small sapling. In time, flowers will grow on Gram’s, too.
Even though we’re having a small going-away party later tonight for Daisy, the rest of the yard is decisively not in hosting shape when you wander too far from the pool. Gram would be mortified.
But, whatever. We can only do so much in between figuring out how to manage a fortune, figuring out each other, and figuring out where we go from here. We’ll get to it.
“Oh,” I say as we stop outside the iron gate to the Anything but Roses garden. I haven’t set foot in here since the day the factory burned. I just . . . couldn’t. Not when it was soaked in memories of Gram.
Leo nudges the gate open. “Come on.”
The others file in, but my feet won’t move. A lump the size of my fist squeezes my throat, the overwhelming urge to run thrumming through me.
“Lily Rose.” Leo’s voice is soft as his fingers twist with mine. “Do you trust me?”
It’s an easy answer, coming to my lips so much faster than the first time he asked me two months ago. “Yes, Leo James.” I let him pull me through the gate.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the diffused light, the sun low enough in the sky to tint the world the color of vines. I blink, and the space comes into focus. The grass beneath our feet is soft and lush and covering a secret lever nobody would know about but us. The flowers we trampled grow strong, the magnolia tree reaching toward the sky and the lilies and daisies sprouting with a vigor that is usually unheard of for late summer.
But my eyes snag on a new flower beneath the Rosetown map carved into the stone wall. Its petals are an inviting purple, the green of its stem vibrant and true.
“Irises.” I blink back tears and look at Leo. “You planted them?”
He nods. “We all did. Well, I supervised mostly, because of my arm. But we had to replant most things. We noticed neither of you came out here, and some days you’re super busy with meetings. We figured we’d surprise you.”
“It’s beautiful,” Daisy says thickly, pointer finger running along a petal. She looks at Quinn with shining eyes. “Thank you.”
Quinn looks at the soil and blushes. Blushes.
“We even gave ol’ Anthony a scrub down,” Miles says, slapping the back of the statue that covers the tunnel again. Caleb grins beside Miles and wraps an arm around his waist.
“You’re all the best,” I say. I wish I could stay in this moment forever, bottle it up like my favorite perfume and spritz it in the air whenever I need to remember this feeling of being part of something bigger than myself. A family. A real, loving family that does things not for money or accolades. But just because.
“And speaking of best,” Daisy says. “Anyone have brag-worthy packing skills? Because I haven’t started yet and should probably get on that.”
“You haven’t even started? You leave in less than a day!” Caleb exclaims.
“So let’s make it into a game, since you’re all so good at that.” Daisy grins. “Race you to my room.”
She breaks into a sprint. Quinn’s hot on her heels, never far from her these days. Caleb follows, yelling about the importance of bundle packing and color coding. Miles leisurely takes up the rear, giving Leo and me a casual salute as if to say, Duty calls.
Shrieks of laughter echo in their wake. I make to follow, but Leo grabs my hand, pulling me back to him. He lifts our conjoined fingers, and I twirl, the faint tunes wafting from the pool speaker barely reaching us.
But we don’t need music. Not when we’re dancing in the empty great room after the party’s over, or around the kitchen in the refrigerator light while rifling for a late-night snack. Little moments like that are becoming new norms as he spends more time with me here, and I swore to myself to never take a single one for granted.
After two full spins, I bump into his chest with a laugh. He stumbles from the impact, his balance still shaky despite him mostly making a full recovery from the concussion. I hold him tightly until he’s steady again.
“You’ve really gotta stop falling around me,” I tease him, trying to keep a serious face.
He bursts out laughing, and so do I, and then he tackles me in a hug so tight, I crumble, and we both fall to the ground. The grass is warm beneath me, as warm as his body pressed to mine as he props himself up, sunlight highlighting the planes of his face and thickness of his lashes. I wrap my arms around him to drag him closer into a sweet, soft kiss so those lashes flutter against my cheek.
He pulls back to peer down at me, winding one of my curls around his finger. “You okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine.” I smile up at him. For once, it’s not a lie.
Because I’m not alone anymore. Far from it. And like the ivy climbing up the manor’s brick, the rosebuds opening to full blooms, and the lilies stretching toward the sun—
Together, we will grow.