23. Grace
23
GRACE
H e picks me up and throws me over his shoulder in an exaggerated move.
“Okay, He-man, I see you,” I giggle.
He slides me down the front of him when we get to the limo, he leans in and kisses me softly.
“I took the liberty of packing bags for us already.”
“You had this planned?”
“Yes, ma’am. I assume that the paparazzi will be all over this before long, and I wanted to give us some privacy to appreciate it.”
“I love your surprises,” I breathe as I kiss him again. “Let’s go.”
He grins widely before he helps me into the back of the limo.
The hum of the plane fades as we break through the clouds, the world opening up beneath us in an endless expanse of blue sky and green fields far below.
Theo glances over from his seat, and I look down at our fingers intertwined.
This is Heaven.
“You’re quiet,” he says, eyes searching my face.
I smile, squeezing his hand.
“I’m just…taking it all in. This feels unreal. I’ve never had anyone make me feel so safe. It’s nice to be able to shut my brain off and just let you make the plans.”
His grin breaks wide, a dimple appearing on his cheek.
“That’s the idea. I enjoy doing that for you. We’re leaving all of the chaos behind. Just you, me, and the English countryside.”
As the pilot announces our descent, I look out the window and see a patchwork of fields, woods, and hills. It’s breathtaking in a way that looks more like a photo in an AI dream rather than reality.
Theo’s fingers tighten around mine, and I lean into him, breathing in the scent of his cologne, mingled with something slightly crisp from the cabin.
The plane lands smoothly, and within moments, we’re walking down the narrow steps to a waiting car. He doesn’t let go of my hand, not for a second.
I feel the pull of his warmth grounding me as the driver takes us through winding roads lined with lush hedges, wildflowers, and distant villages.
The car finally pulls up to the estate. It’s everything you’d imagine an English manor would be—ivy trailing up old stone walls, gardens sprawling in every direction. As if nature herself has had centuries to weave a tapestry here.
“Ready for a quiet adventure?”
I raise an eyebrow. “How quiet?”
He laughs, a sound so easy and so real that it feels like it slips into the silence around us. “Let’s find out.”
As we step out, I immediately breathe in the earthiness of it all—rich, fertile, and full of life. A gentle breeze catches my hair, and Theo’s hand finds the small of my back as he leads me toward the garden paths.
It’s simple here, but that’s the beauty of it. We walk along narrow paths of cobblestone, worn smooth by time; past rose bushes with buds in every shade of pink and low stone walls covered in a veil of moss.
I reach out, letting my fingers brush against the soft petals.
“They don’t look real,” I murmur, half to myself.
“Neither do you, to be honest,” he says, watching me with that quiet smile of his as if he’s known me forever.
His words catch me off guard, and my heart does a little flip. I feel the blush creeping into my cheeks as he retakes my hand, pulling me close so he can press a soft kiss to my forehead.
He tugs me down another path, and suddenly, we’re surrounded by towering hedges that arch above us.
At the end, there’s a small iron gate, half-hidden by ivy and barely visible unless you’re looking for it.
Theo pushes it open, and we step into a hidden garden.
The air changes at once, as if we’ve crossed into a different world. The garden is secluded, enclosed on all sides by walls of ancient stone.
In the center, there’s a small pond, lilies floating on its surface, and beside it, an old bench, weathered by the years but sturdy.
“Wow…” I breathe, staring in awe. It feels like a place out of a dream, a place untouched by time.
“This…this reminds me of my favorite book growing up. I always dreamed of getting lost in a secret garden because of it.”
He watches me, his gaze softer than I’ve ever seen. “I knew you’d love it.”
I turn to him, chuckling. “How did you even find this place?”
He shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets as he glances around. “I like to keep a few secrets.”
“Oh, do you?” I challenge, moving closer to him until I’m close enough to feel his breath against my skin. “Like what?”
His eyes dance with mischief, and he reaches out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
“Like the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the day we met. That every time I’m with you, everything else just…fades away.”
“I know what you mean,” I whisper, feeling vulnerable but safe.
He pulls me into his arms, our bodies fitting together as if they were meant to. We stand there in the stillness, letting the world around us breathe in its quiet rhythm.
“This is the most perfect moment, but…they all are with you,” he says as he kisses the top of my forehead.
As the sun starts to dip, casting everything in a warm golden light, we sit by the pond. Theo leans back on his elbows, his head tilted toward the sky, a rare look of complete ease on his face.
I reach down, letting my hand trail over the cool grass, soaking up the simple joy of this place.
“This is the kind of place you could get lost in,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence. “In a good way.”
He chuckles, his eyes still closed. “Or maybe we’ll just never leave.”
“Oh, I like that idea,” I say with a grin, lying down beside him, staring up at the sky through the branches overhead.
After a while, he shifts onto his side, propping his head on one hand as he looks down at me. “What would you do if we did stay here? Away from everything?”
I think for a moment, letting the idea settle.
“I’d bake bread. Grow vegetables. Learn how to prune roses without accidentally killing them. I think…I think I’d be happy.”
He smiles, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “I think you’d make an amazing gardener.”
“Oh, yeah? You think I have a green thumb?”
“Absolutely,” he says, leaning closer until our noses nearly touch. “I mean, look at you. You’re already making things grow around here.”
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, and I smack his arm. “That’s the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“But it’s true,” he murmurs, and then his lips are on mine, soft and sweet. It’s a kiss that feels as natural as breathing, as if we’re simply a part of this place, this moment.
We stay like that until the light begins to fade, and then he pulls me up, wrapping his arm around me as we make our way back through the winding garden paths.
Dinner is set on the terrace overlooking the gardens, and it’s simple but perfect. We sip wine and talk for hours, sharing stories, laughing over silly things, and letting the weight of the world slip away.
When the stars come out, we walk together in the moonlit gardens, our footsteps soft against the stone.
“Promise me something,” he says, stopping to take both my hands in his, his gaze serious.
“Anything.”
He smiles, tilting his head.
“Promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll always find time to get away. Just us. A place like this. Where everything can just…be.”
“I promise,” I say, holding his gaze.
The morning light filters through the gauzy curtains. I stretch, relishing the unfamiliar silence, broken only by the faintest birdsong drifting through the open window.
Beside me, Theo stirs, a slow smile spreading across his face as his eyes open to meet mine.
It feels like we’re still caught in some dream, wrapped up in this place where the world outside doesn’t exist.
“Good morning,” he says, voice still thick with sleep, his hand finding mine.
“Morning,” I whisper back, squeezing his fingers. “This is…perfect.”
He gives a lazy chuckle, sitting up and looking out the window. “It gets even better. How about we go into the village today?”
Before I can answer, there’s a soft knock at the door, followed by the door creaking open just slightly.
I catch a glimpse of a silver tray with a delicate China teapot and two cups, carried by the house butler.
He shuffles in with an elegance that would make anyone think he’s been tending to morning tea for centuries.
“Good morning, sir, madam. Mr. Theo, it’s lovely to have you back. Ma’am, I am Ernest, and I am at your service.”
“Thank you,” Theo says, nodding as Ernest sets the tray down on a small table by the window, his movements practiced and deliberate.
“Is there anything else you require this morning?” Ernest asks, a hint of a smile peeking through as he glances from Theo to me.
“Perhaps directions to the village? Though, I’m certain sir remembers how to find his way.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, he’s been here before?”
“Quite. Sir is something of a legend around these parts.” He shoots Theo an amused look. “Very fond of the pub, if I recall correctly.”
“Nothing wrong with a pint or two.”
“Of course not, sir. And may I suggest a stroll through the village market? Mrs. Henley’s flower stall is particularly fine this time of year. She’ll be terribly excited to see you.”
With another nod, Ernest glides from the room, closing the door softly behind him. I watch Theo, a grin creeping across my face.
“So, a legend, huh? Do I get to hear the stories?”
“Only if you’re buying me a pint,” he says, leaning back on his hands and laughing. “Come on, let’s get ready.”
After we dress, the scent of freshly baked bread wafts through the hall as we make our way downstairs.
In the cozy breakfast nook, the chef is bustling about with a tray of pastries, a warm smile lighting up her face as we step in.
“Good morning, Mr. Theo, Ms. Grace,” she says, pushing a plate of buttery scones in our direction. “These just came out of the oven. Figured you’d need a little bite before you head off.”
“Thank you, Maggie,” Theo says.
My stomach rumbles as I eye the scones. “These look incredible.”
Maggie waves her hand dismissively, her cheeks flushed with pride. “Oh, it’s nothing. You two make sure to try the clotted cream—made fresh by Mrs. Bradley down the road.
She’s been supplying us since, well, since I can remember!”
As I spread a spoonful of the thick cream over my scone, I am blown away at how rich and satisfying the flavors are.
Theo looks over, catching my expression as I take a bite, his eyes bright with amusement.
“Good, right?”
“More than good,” I reply, around a mouthful of it.
With breakfast finished, we thank Maggie and set off for the village. It doesn’t take long before we see the first signs of it—a stone church with a weathered steeple, standing tall against the backdrop of green hills.
There’s also a cobblestone street flanked by rows of charming little shops with painted signs and overflowing flower boxes.
“This is straight out of a storybook,” I say, gazing around in awe.
Theo chuckles. “Wait until you see the market. Come on.”
The village square is buzzing with people when we arrive. The market stalls are draped in fabric bunting, and there’s a cheerful clamor of voices and laughter as locals exchange pleasantries.
I watch as a woman in an apron dusted with flour hands a loaf of bread to a young man, their warm smiles making it feel like everyone here knows each other.
Theo leads me to a flower stall. The flowers are arranged in vibrant bouquets—wildflowers, peonies, roses—all tied up with twine.
A woman in her sixties, with her gray hair pulled back in a bun and glasses perched on her nose, spots Theo and gasps.
“Theo! I can’t believe it! Back from the city, are you?” she exclaims, wiping her hands on her apron before throwing her arms around him in a hug. He hugs her back, laughing.
“Mrs. Henley,” he says, pulling back, “it’s been too long. I had to come by and say hello.”
She looks at me, her eyes lighting up as she takes my hand in both of hers. “And who’s this lovely lady?”
“This is Grace,” he says, his hand on the small of my back. “My fiancé.”
Mrs. Henley’s eyes soften, and she gives me a sweet smile. “Well, you’re a lucky one, Grace. And don’t let him talk you out of a bouquet. We can’t have you leaving empty-handed.”
I laugh, looking over the flowers until my eyes settle on a bunch of wildflowers, their bright colors a cheerful splash against the greenery.
Mrs. Henley bundles them up and hands them to me with a wink.
We thank her, and Theo takes my hand as we continue to wander through the market. Each stall is like a little story—hand-knitted sweaters, jars of honey, and fresh produce stacked in neat piles.
The people smile at us as we pass, nodding their heads or saying good morning with a warmth that feels so natural.
As we stop by a small stall selling pottery, Theo picks up a tiny clay fox painted a vibrant orange with delicate white markings.
He shows it to me, his eyes glinting with humor. “Remember when you told me how much you love foxes?”
I laugh, taking the figurine and examining it. “Yes! This one’s perfect.”
“Then we’ll take it,” he says, handing it to the vendor.
I watch him pay, a soft smile spreading across my face as he tucks the fox into his jacket pocket like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
We continue to explore, taking our time and letting the day unfold at its own pace. At a tiny bookstore tucked between two cottages, Theo pulls me inside, where the scent of old paper and worn leather surrounds us.
Rows of wooden shelves hold stacks of novels, some with faded covers, others beautifully bound and delicate.
“Look at this one,” he says, pulling down a book with a fraying spine, its title worn but still legible: *Wuthering Heights.*
“This is the kind of place where I’d love to curl up with a good book.”
“You can. We have all the time in the world here.”
His words sink in, and I feel a smile spread across my face, as if this place has cast its spell, inviting us to just be.
After a while, we find ourselves at a cozy café on the edge of the square, and we sit outside on a small terrace with ivy creeping up its walls.
We order tea and scones—yes, more scones—and settle in, the hum of village life unfolding around us.
Theo leans back, looking completely at ease. “I used to spend entire summers here as a kid. It felt like magic back then—like the world was limitless.”
“It still feels that way,” I say softly, looking out at the village square. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather share it with.”
We talk, laughing over stories of our childhoods and swapping tales of city life versus country life, each moment making me feel more and more rooted in this place—and with him.
As we make our way back to the estate, I look at him, realizing how deeply I feel for him and how this place has brought out sides of him I never expected to see.
It’s as if we’re caught between worlds, held in this quiet, beautiful bubble where everything just makes sense.
When we arrive back at the estate, Ernest is there to greet us, a small smile tugging at his lips as he takes our flowers and the little clay fox.
“Good afternoon,” he says, with a slight bow. “I trust the village was everything you hoped?”
“More than,” I reply, glancing at Theo.
“Splendid,” Ernest says, his eyes twinkling.
“I’ll prepare a vase for the flowers. And might I say, you both look positively radiant. Quite the advertisement for rural living, I’d say.”
As we head inside, my heart feels light, and I realize that this place—with Theo by my side—might be more than just a weekend getaway.
It might be a place where something real can grow, where a new chapter can begin.