Chapter 9 - The Garden of Myers Park
Three months later, the Carolina autumn had turned the oaks of Myers Park into a canopy of crimson, amber, and gold.
Claire walked slowly along the paved garden paths of the Mercer estate, wrapped in a soft cashmere cardigan. Her color had returned, the porcelain translucence of her skin replaced by a healthy, warm glow. The surgical scar running down the center of her chest had healed into a thin silver line, a battle ribbon from a war she had survived.
Behind her, the French doors of the mansion clicked shut.
Nathan walked toward her across the fallen leaves, carrying a tray with two porcelain cups. He was dressed casually in a knit sweater and dark slacks, looking younger and lighter than he ever had in his entire life.
""Peppermint tea,"" Nathan said, handing her a steaming mug. ""One drop of honey. No lemon.""
Claire smiled up at him, accepting the cup. ""You learned how I take my tea.""
""I learned everything,"" Nathan murmured, sitting down beside her on the stone bench overlooking the lawn. ""I know you read historical memoirs when you can't sleep. I know you like the house at exactly sixty-eight degrees. And I know that when you're angry, you don't raise your voice—you just clean the spice rack in alphabetical order.""
Claire laughed, a clear, melodic sound that warmed the crisp autumn air. ""That was one time, Nathan.""
""It terrified me,"" he replied with a grin, though his eyes soon softened into something profound and quiet. He reached out, his warm, strong hand gently covering hers where it rested on her knee.
They sat in silence for a long time, watching the leaves drift down onto the green grass. For two years, silence between them had been an icy fortress of unspoken resentment and transaction. Now, it was a sanctuary.
""Dr. Hale cleared you for international travel this morning,"" Nathan said softly.
Claire turned her head. ""Did he?""
""Yes. No high-altitude climbing, but beaches are completely acceptable."" Nathan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.
Claire’s heart gave a slight, familiar leap—not from arrhythmia, but from an emotion she had spent years trying to suppress. ""Nathan, what is that?""
""Our wedding was a transaction designed by lawyers to erase debt,"" Nathan said, opening the box to reveal a platinum band set with a single, flawless emerald cut diamond, completely different from the sterile gold ring they had exchanged two years prior. ""It was signed in a boardroom and sealed with a stranger. I don't want that marriage anymore.""
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Claire’s eyes widened slightly, her fingers tightening around her tea mug.
""I want to court you,"" Nathan said, his voice dropping to a gravelly, earnest whisper. ""I want to take you to dinner and listen to you talk about your favorite books. I want to hold your hand in front of every camera in the world and never let go. I want to marry you, Claire Bennett. Not to save your father's trucks, but because without you, this house is just a graveyard of expensive furniture.""
