My gut reaction is to say no, but honestly, what else am I going to do around here all day? Hiding out in my room won't solve anything. In fact, sitting around with nothing to do would leave me too much time to obsessively dissect these jumbled emotions I’m experiencing. Distracting myself with a giant hedge maze sounds a lot more pleasant, even if it means interacting with the object of my turmoil.
"All right," I agree.
Calder smiles, and my stomach flutters.
“Care to join me for a shower first?” he says.
God, would I ever. But I shake my head. No more fooling around. I’m only going to end up hurt.
The disappointment that flashes across his face is only satisfying for the briefest of moments.
“I prefer to shower on my own,” I say, but it sounds like an excuse, even to me. “I’ll just meet you after.”
He nods, once, then disappears into his bathroom without another word. Part of me is tempted to follow him, to strip off my clothes and surprise him, but I push the thought aside. I need to control myself.
I turn and leave the room quickly, before my resolve has the chance to waver.
* * *
An hour later, freshly showered and clothed in another lovely dress from Louisa's closet, I meet Calder on the lawn. I called my dad while I was getting dressed, and though he sounded as tired and flustered as ever, he was thrilled with the work Garrett’s done since I called him. He told me that Garrett was at the Center all day yesterday, and that he’d already managed to elicit enough donations to get us through the month. He said he had every faith that my loathsome ex was exactly what we needed to turn things around. I didn't tell my dad about all the calls and messages. I didn't want to spoil his mood. I haven't heard him this excited and hopeful in months.
Garrett himself called me again this morning, but I let it go straight to voicemail. I'm shocked he hasn't gotten the hint by now, but that's Garrett for you. He's determined, I'll give him that much.
I leave my phone on my bed. Garrett can disappear with the rest of my real-world problems. This morning is about the gardens.
And damn, are these some gardens.
Calder leads me around the side of the house, and my breath catches in my throat when I see the grounds open up in front of us. Sure, the storm knocked down some branches and leaves, but it hardly lessens the effect—this place is beautiful. I'm reminded of the impression I had when I first stood outside the gates: it's like some overgrown enchanted garden out of a fairy tale. Here, next to the house, someone has laid out the beds in an ornate diamond pattern.
The beds themselves are wild with flowers—far more than I could ever identify—but I recognize asters and the chrysanthemums among the early-autumn blooms. The section closest to the house is full of herbs, and several small, flowering trees stand at the corners of the path. At the center, where all the beds come together, I spot a trickling stone fountain.
"This is… this is amazing."
I look up to find Calder watching me intently. He's clearly pleased by my reaction.
"This is like something out of a storybook," I say, moving deeper into the garden. It's a cheesy sentiment, I know, but I feel a childish sort of excitement. I almost feel like a princess, wandering around a place like this.
I glance back over my shoulder at my dashing "prince." He smiles at me warmly, his whole face blooming.
I quickly turn back around. There I go, getting caught up in silly romantic notions and forgetting why I'm even here in the first place. How much does it cost to maintain a garden like this? Probably a lot more than all of the Center's programs combined.
But I'm not supposed to be thinking about this anymore. I had my chance to win us the money, and I failed. And I enjoyed that failure, too, a voice in my head whispers.
By the time we reach the edge of the fountain, the glow of excitement has dimmed. Outside in the light of day, I’m confronted once again by the ridiculousness of my actions. What was I thinking, sleeping with him? How had I allowed myself to get so distracted, to forget why I came here, even for a minute? How can I look at him now, after everything that's happened, and be at all confused about my feelings for him? He's not a prince. He’s a man who lives in excess while refusing to fulfill the pledge his family made to the Center. Having sex doesn’t change that.
Calder doesn't seem to notice my sudden shift in mood. He stands next to me at the edge of the fountain, looking down at the water. I myself look up at the stone sculpture that crowns the piece. It's a pair of horses, heads held high and tails flowing in an imaginary wind. Water spews out of the mouth of each of the stoic beasts, following a graceful arc into the pool below.
"My father had this fountain specially commissioned," Calder says. "The one on the left was modeled after my sister's horse. The one on the right is mine. Rudolph, I called him. Louisa and I used to pretend that some curse had turned them to stone and it was up to us to free them."
I want to smile, but I don’t. "Rudolph? Like the reindeer?"
"He was a Christmas present," Calder says with a shrug. "I wanted a reindeer, but my father said they couldn't survive outside the North Pole. I was pretty torn up over it, truth be told. But Rudolph is a great horse. The best I could ever ask for."
"Where is he now?" I say, glancing around. "Didn't you say you had stables here?" I’ve always loved horses. Maybe they could help lighten my mood again.
Calder's smile falls from his face.
"I sold him this past summer." He reaches down and runs his fingers along the surface of the water. The pool is murky from the recent rain, and a number of twigs and leaves have collected at the bottom.
Sold it, like he sold the family’s boat? Is this about his father, too?
"Why?" It's a dangerous question, but I ask it anyway.
He looks back up at me, and for a moment I see it again, that sadness that he keeps buried away. Before I can stop myself, I'm reaching toward him, and my fingers brush against his cheek. He doesn't move. I lightly sweep a bit of hair away from his temple. I don't know what I'm doing, and I know I’m being foolish, but I can't bring myself to break his intense gaze.
"Why?" I ask again. This time my voice is no more than a whisper. I feel like I'm on the verge of something, like he's about to open up to me about whatever dark feelings he's been suppressing. His lips part slightly, and I give him another encouraging caress across his cheek.
"It's not important.” He steps away from my touch. "Anyway, I'm too busy to properly care for a horse." He turns and begins to walk around the base of the fountain. "What do you say? The maze next?"