LOU

I kissed Will on his cheek before saying good night. I wished he would have invited me to lay beside him, but I know he thinks it's better this way. Maybe in the end, it will be, but that didn't mean I couldn't hope for more.

After leaving Will alone in his room, I said goodbye to Nathan, grabbed my duffle and roller suitcase, and wheeled it to the spare bedroom I had once occupied. I sat on the edge of the bed. It was as quiet as ever, save for the soft hum of the wind outside and the faint rustle of the trees through the window. After a while, I made myself at home again, unpacking the clothes and knickknacks I had thrown into my bags in my haste to leave my parents house.

My mind drifted back to the conversation I had with Will. Lately, we were dancing around what we wanted to say to each other, but tonight was different. I had opened myself back up to him, but I was still afraid. I was afraid that even after everything, my love wouldn't be enough. That's why I haven't said it to him again, no matter how much I want to. I know Will cares for me, but he still hasn't allowed himself to see the possibilities of what our love could be.

I reached for his letter. The bold type print stared up at me, daring me to open it. I hadn't realized how much I'd been holding onto that letter. Not just physically but emotionally. I carried it with me, tucked away in my bag like a weight I didn't want to deal with, a reminder of a future that never happened, of a goodbye I wasn't ready to hear.

But now, after everything that Will and I had just talked about, it felt like the right time. Like I finally had the strength to face it.

My eyes were fixed on the envelope.

CLARK

ONLY TO BE READ IN THE CAFE MARQUIS RUE DES FRANCE BOURGEOIS, ACCOMPANIED BY CROISSANTS AND A LARGE CAFE CREME.

I traced my finger over the typewritten text, my heart tightening. It had been days since Treena handed it to me, and I'd been avoiding it ever since. But with my conversation with Will still fresh in my mind, I felt ready to see what he'd written all those weeks ago.

I took a deep breath, my fingers trembling slightly as I carefully opened the envelope. For a moment, I just held it in my lap, staring down at it like it was something fragile, something that might break me if I wasn't careful.

What if I'm not ready?

But then, I thought of Will's face when I told him I wasn't going anywhere. I thought of how he'd looked at me—like maybe, for the first time, he wanted me to stay. I thought of the promise I made to him. No matter what, I wouldn't allow anything to hold me back from living a full life. I meant it.

The letter was longer than I expected. My heart raced as I unfolded the pages and closed my eyes for a moment, preparing myself for whatever I was about to read.

Then I began.

Clark,

A few weeks should have passed by the time you read this (even given your newfound organizational skills, I doubt you will have made it to Paris before Early September).

I stopped, already feeling the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. Of course, he'd want to imagine me in Paris. I recalled our conversation all those months ago and the wistful expression he got when he talked about the last time he'd been there. I took a deep breath and pushed forward.

… And if you look down the road to your left, you will hopefully see L'Artisan parfumeur, where, after you read this, you should go and try the scent called something like Papillons Extreme (can't quite remember). I always thought it would smell great on you.

Okay, instructions over.

I sniffed. So bossy, I thought with a watery smile.

When you get back to England, take this letter to Micheal in his London office, and he will give you the relevant documents so you can access an account he has set up for me in your name.

My eyes grew wide, and I began to shake my head. Oh, Will! The words blurred as the tears came, but I wiped them away quickly, my heart squeezing tighter with each line.

Clark, I can practically hear you starting to hyperventilate from here. Don't start panicking, or trying to give it away—

I couldn't stop the sob that escaped then, my hand trembling as I held the paper. Of course, he knew how I'd react this way. He knew me better than anyone else. And he'd know how hard it would be for me to accept such generosity. I wanted to go to him right now, but he needed his rest, and I didn't know what I could possibly say.

I pressed my lips together, determined to keep reading.

So this is it. You are scored on my heart, Clark. You were from the first day you walked in with your ridiculous clothes and your bad jokes and your complete inability to ever hide a single thing you felt. You changed my life so much more than this money will ever change yours.

Don't think of me too often. I don't want to think of you getting all maudlin. Just live well.

Just live.

Love,

Will

As I stared at the final line, "Just live," I wondered what Will had felt when he wrote it. Did he truly believe I would move on and find some grand life without him? The thought made my heart ache because even now, after everything, I wasn't sure I could do that.

The letter fell from my hands, landing softly on the bed beside me as I stared at the ceiling, tears streaming down my cheeks. I felt a strange mixture of emotions—sadness, relief, and something else I hadn't expected.

Hope.

The man who had written this letter was ready to say goodbye. But the man in the annex, only a few feet away from me, was trying, in his own way, to keep going. He was still here. Maybe that meant there was a future for us after all. I wiped my eyes, taking a deep breath. Will had wanted me to live boldly, to see the world, to do all the things he believed I was capable of. And maybe I hadn't been ready before, but now... now I felt like I could.

We could.

Maybe one day, the two of us in Paris will be sipping coffee and eating croissants together.

I stood up, folding the letter carefully and placing it back on the bedside table. I'd read it again one day when the time was right. But for now, I had something far more important to focus on.

Will.

We weren't out of the woods yet. There were still challenges ahead, still things to face together. But after reading his words, I knew I wasn't scared anymore.

We could make this work. I would find a way.

I wouldn't live in fear of his past decisions, of the choices he almost made. Instead, I would focus on what we had now—and what we could build together.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything lift from my shoulders. Then, with a new sense of determination, I finished unpacking, my thoughts still swirling around Will and the future ahead.

The following day, the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the garden as I knelt, my fingers digging into the earth, placing the last seeds in neat little rows. It had taken some hard work, but the garden was finally coming together. I wiped the sweat from my brow and glanced back at Will, who was parked at the edge of the garden, overseeing the entire operation with his usual air of authority.

"Clark, you're doing it wrong," Will said.

I looked up, squinting in the sunlight. "What? I'm literally following your instructions."

Will tilted his head, his sharp eyes scanning the rows I'd planted. "No, you're not. The spacing is uneven. You're supposed to leave at least two inches between the seeds, not five. Honestly, do I have to supervise everything?" He grinned, unable to hide his amusement despite his faux cantankerous tone.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at my lips. "Well, if you're so clever, why don't you do it yourself?" I shot back, knowing full well what his response would be.

Will raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Believe me, if I could, this garden would already be a masterpiece. But as it stands, you'll just have to make do with my brilliant direction."

I stood up, stretching my arms over my head. "I think it looks fine," I said, surveying the work I'd done. "Besides, perfection is overrated. This garden is about growing stuff, not being a showcase for the Chelsea Flower Show."

Will made a low sound that could have been a chuckle or a grunt of disapproval. "I'll settle for the garden not being a complete disaster. Now, grab the wildflower seeds and plant them along the edge. The symmetry is all off."

"Bossy," I muttered, but I obeyed, grabbing the packet of wildflower seeds and crouching down again.

As I worked, I noticed Will's gaze never left me. His eyes followed every movement like he couldn't take his eyes off me. There was something different about today—something lighter. Maybe it was the garden, maybe it was the fresh air, or maybe it was just the simple fact that we were doing something together.

After a while, I stood up, brushing the dirt off my hands. "There," I said, gesturing toward the newly planted seeds. "Satisfied, Mr. Traynor?"

Will's eyes flicked to the garden and then back to me. "For now, Ms. Clark."

I grinned and walked over to him."You know, you could be a little more grateful. I'm doing all the hard work here."

"Isn't that what you're here for?" he teased.

I laughed, shaking my head. "And here I thought we were supposed to be in this together."

Will narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "We are. That's why I'm going to remind you about the watering can you left sitting there unused. Don't forget, the seeds won't grow without water, Clark."

I glanced at the can he was referring to, the one I'd been avoiding because it was heavy and awkward to use. I sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll water them, boss." I mock saluted him.

As I picked up the can and started watering the freshly planted seeds, Will continued instructing me. "Don't drown them. A light mist is enough. And make sure you hit the edges."

I smirked. "You do realize I've been doing this for days now, right? I'm practically a professional gardener."

"I'll believe it when I see the results," Will shot back, his tone full of challenge.

I watered the last plants, setting the can down with a satisfied thud. "There. All done. Happy?"

Will didn't respond immediately, his gaze shifting from the garden to me. His expression softened, the usual sharpness in his eyes replaced by something gentler. "You're a disaster in the garden," he said, "but I suppose I'll allow it."

I laughed, knowing that was as close to a compliment as I would get. "Thanks. I'll take it."

For a moment, we just sat there in the quiet of the garden. The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the lawn, and I could feel a sense of peace settling over us. Last night's conversation was cathartic. Reading his letter was bittersweet, but it showed how much he cared about me. Will said I was scored on his heart, and he was written on mine, too.

I know he didn't plan this; it wasn't perfect, and it wasn't the grand life Will had once imagined, but it was something. It was ours.

I moved closer, resting my hand on his arm. "Will... I've been thinking about what you said. About living boldly."

His gaze shifted to mine, the softness in his eyes turning serious. "Clark—"

"No, hear me out," I interrupted, squeezing his arm. "I read your letter last night after our talk, and it gave me a lot to think about. I think you're right about broadening my horizons. I never thought about it much before, but you changed me. I'm not the same Louisa Clark anymore. I think I should enroll in school again. You know, like we talked about before. And I want to travel and see the world. Maybe even try buttery croissants in France one day."

Will's expression didn't change, but I could see the flicker of interest behind his eyes. "You should. You're wasting your talents sitting here with me, playing in the dirt."

I shook my head. "I'm not wasting anything. I can still live and be close to you, Will. Being here doesn't mean I can't do more. I can return to school, take classes... and do anything I want, including being with you."

Will was quiet for a long moment, his eyes scanning my face as if he were trying to gauge how serious I was. Finally, he spoke. "The money I left for you, it's still yours, Clark. It's there for you to use for whatever you want—school, travel, your future."

I bit my lip, the emotion welling up inside me. "Will, I—"

"You don't have to say anything," Will cut in, his voice soft but firm. "Just promise me you won't let me hold you back."

I nodded, my throat tight. "I won't. I promise."

"Good," Will said, his voice dropping to a lower tone, almost hesitant. "I've also made my decision about the carer position."

My stomach dipped. We'd been operating in limbo ever since his release from the hospital. Back at home, I'd been living off my last paycheck. The money wouldn't last much longer. But then again... I didn't have to worry about money anymore.

"Yeah?"

He shifted slightly in his chair, and for the first time in a long while, I saw something in his eyes that wasn't just weariness. There was something deeper, more vulnerable. "I'm not going to offer it to you."

I blinked. "What?"

"You're more than a carer, Lou. You're more than that to me." He paused as if choosing his next words carefully. "You've always been more."

My heart pounded. "So, what are you saying, Will?"

His gaze held mine, unwavering, and there was no hiding behind half-truths this time. "I'm saying that I care for you deeply, Clark. I think you know that. I want us to stop pretending this is just some arrangement between a patient and his carer. I don't care if we call it a relationship, a partnership, whatever—it's real, and I don't want to lose it. I know I'm selfish, but I can't imagine a life without you near."

I was stunned. My breath caught in my throat as the words settled around us, the air thick with everything I'd wanted to hear for so long. My hands trembled slightly, but I refused to look away.

"Are you for real, Will Traynor?" I whispered.

Will nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yes. I am. And I think you know that."

I let out a shaky breath, the tension in my chest loosening in a way I hadn't felt in months. Before I could stop myself, I slid onto his lap just as I had in Mauritius, my arms naturally slipping around his neck. His eyes widened a mix of surprise and something deeper flickering behind them.

"Clark," he started, but I silenced him with a small smile.

"I just need this," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath.

His gaze softened, and I could feel the unspoken understanding between us. Gently, I leaned in, my heart pounding, and pressed my lips against his. His lips were softer than I remembered, the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips grounding me in the moment. The faint scent of fresh earth and wildflowers clung to us, the world outside fading away as I pressed closer to him.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, but sweet. It was a kiss filled with promises of what could be—no desperation, no fear, just the simple, quiet need to be near him. His lips moved slowly against mine, responding in a way that made my heart ache. It wasn't rushed; it wasn't about what came next. It was about now, about the quiet reassurance we both needed.

When I finally pulled back, his eyes lingered on mine, his breath just as uneven as mine. I felt his chest rise and fall beneath me, and I felt… loved.

"You have my heart, Clark," Will said, his voice soft but steady. His eyes never left mine, and I could see the truth in them. "You've always had it."

My throat tightened, and I pressed my forehead against his, my fingers brushing lightly against his jawline. "And you have mine," I whispered. "Forever."