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“But I try,” he murmured. “To do what I say, I mean. I’ve found it’s easier that way. No complicated stories to remember.”

A small laugh escaped her. “Is that your secret? Honesty as the path of least resistance?”

“Busted,” he grinned, shifting the supplies in his arms. “Plus, my mom would kill me if I broke a promise. She raised us better than that.”

“She sounds formidable.”

“Oh, she is,” Alfie chuckled. “Although she has a heart of gold. You’d like her, I think.”

The casual way he seemed it was a foregone conclusion that she would meet his mom made her breath catch. Or was she once again reading too much into his casual comments?

“Aunt Marion!” Charlie called, breaking the moment, as he reached the plot and set his tray down. “Can we plant these now? Alfie said they’ll bring butterflies!”

“Yes. I’ll come help you,” she called back, grateful for the interruption before she could say something foolish. Something that might ruin this perfect morning.

They spent the next hour working side by side, Alfie demonstrating how to stake the tomatoes properly, and showing Charlie the perfect depth for the marigold seedlings. His hands were gentle with the plants, patient when Charlie’s enthusiasm led to a few crushed leaves.

“It’s okay,” he assured the boy when Charlie apologized. “Plants are tougher than they look. Just like people.”

Marion watched them together, the way Alfie seemed to know exactly when to offer help and when to step back. How he listened intently when Charlie spoke, never making him feel stupid no matter what the question.

“You’re good with him,” she said quietly as Charlie proudly watered the newly planted marigolds.

Alfie’s smile was warm but tinged with something like sadness. “He’s easy to be good with. Smart. Observant.” He hesitated, then added, “Careful.”

The word hung between them, loaded with meaning. Yes, Charlie was careful.

Had learned to be careful in ways no child should have to learn.

“He hasn’t always been,” Marion admitted, surprised at herself for sharing even this much. “He used to be fearless. Reckless, even.”

“Life has a way of teaching us caution,” Alfie said with a sideways glance at her. “Sometimes too well.”

Their eyes met, and Marion felt that strange connection again. As if Alfie could see past her defenses to the person she’d been before when she too hadn’t been so careful.

So damaged.

How she missed that person. How she wished one day she could be her again.

“Aunt Marion, look!” Charlie’s excited voice drew their attention. A small yellow butterfly had landed on one of the marigolds, its wings slowly opening and closing in the sunlight.

“Already?” Marion marveled, moving closer.

“They know good things when they see them,” Alfie said, his eyes on her rather than the butterfly.

Heat bloomed on her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. For the first time in longer than she could remember, Marion allowed herself to feel the pull of attraction, of connection, without immediately shutting it down.

Maybe, just maybe, there was room in their new life for more than just safety and stability. Maybe there was room for joy, too. For trust. For a man who kept his promises and talked to plants and looked at her like she was a rare and precious flower.

“I guess you could say the butterfly is experiencing love at firstplant,” Alfie said, gesturing toward the insect still perched on the marigold.

Marion couldn’t help but laugh, bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her, somewhere that had been silent for too long.The sound surprised her almost as much as the heat that threaded through her veins at Alfie’s expression.

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned, clearly delighted by her response. There was something so infectious about his joy, his openness, the way he found delight in small moments, and found herself wishing that one day Charlie could approach life with that same unguarded enthusiasm.

“How’s it going?” Finn’s voice interrupted her thoughts as he approached their plot, clipboard still in hand, but his attention fully on them.

“I think we’re going to have an amazing crop of tomatoes,” Alfie replied, standing to greet his brother. “I believe Charlie has green fingers.”