Page 45 of Meadowsweet and Marigold (EverAfter CozyXverse #1)

"She also made sure I understood something that a lot of Alphas never learn," he continued, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that made her breath catch slightly.

"That Omegas deserve to be loved and adored for exactly who they are, not for what they can do or how they can make others look good.

My father was... well, let's just say he was the kind of Alpha who saw relationships as transactions.

My mother made sure I knew that was wrong. "

The conviction in his voice, the way he spoke about Omega worth as if it was the most obvious truth in the world, made tears prick at the corners of Marigold's eyes.

How different her life might have been if she'd encountered this attitude earlier, if she'd been surrounded by people who valued her essence rather than her accomplishments.

"I have every intention of making sure my Omega knows this," he continued, and though his words were general, the way he looked at her made it clear that his intentions weren't entirely theoretical.

"That they're cherished for their kindness, their intuition, their ability to create beauty and connection in the world.

That they never have to earn love through performance. "

The words hit her like a physical touch, recognition and longing combining in her chest in a way that made it hard to breathe. This was what she'd been searching for without knowing it—not just acceptance, but celebration. Not just tolerance of her Omega nature, but reverence for it.

"Your mother raised you well," she managed, her voice slightly rough with emotion.

"She did," he agreed simply. "And she would have loved you. She always said that the most beautiful people were the ones who'd learned to find joy again after having it stolen from them."

The observation was so perceptive, so specific to her situation, that she wondered how much Meadow had shared about her circumstances. But rather than feeling exposed, she felt seen—understood in a way that was both comforting and terrifying.

"Would you like to see the rest of the greenhouse?" Gus asked, apparently sensing that the emotional intensity needed a lighter touch. "I have some evening-blooming flowers that should be opening soon, and there's a section where I'm experimenting with unusual herb combinations."

She nodded eagerly, grateful for the opportunity to move and explore while processing the depth of what he'd shared.

As they wandered through different sections of the greenhouse, Gus explained his various projects with infectious enthusiasm.

Here were medicinal herbs he was growing for the local clinic, there were exotic flowering vines he'd acquired through trade with other botanical enthusiasts.

Every plant had a story, every section revealed another facet of his passionate curiosity about the natural world.

"This is my favorite section," he said, leading her to an area where the air hummed with the sound of water trickling over stones.

A small fountain created a natural focal point, surrounded by plants that thrived in humid conditions.

The combination of moving water and lush greenery created an atmosphere that was both energizing and peaceful.

"It's like a secret garden," she said, enchanted by the way moonlight filtered through the glass ceiling to create patterns on the water's surface. "I feel like I'm in a dream."

"Want to know a secret?" Gus asked, his voice taking on a playful quality that made her look at him with curiosity.

"Always," she replied, meaning it.

"Sometimes, when I'm here late at night working on new blends, I put on music and pretend I'm in a ballroom somewhere exotic. All this greenery and candlelight... it's like nature's own dance floor."

The admission was so unexpectedly charming that she found herself grinning. "You dance in here?"

"Badly," he confirmed with a laugh that was pure joy. "But enthusiastically. There's something about being surrounded by all this life and beauty that makes me want to move, you know?"

The image of him dancing alone among his plants, pink hair wild and movements uninhibited, was so endearing that she felt her heart squeeze with affection. Here was someone who embraced joy wherever he found it, who wasn't embarrassed by his own enthusiasms.

"Show me," she said impulsively, surprising herself with her boldness.

"What?" he asked, his eyes widening with delighted shock.

"Dance with me. Right here, right now. I want to see how a ballroom in a greenhouse works."

For a moment, he stared at her as if trying to determine whether she was serious. Then his face broke into the most radiant smile she'd ever seen, and he moved to a small speaker system she hadn't noticed tucked discretely among the plants.

"Fair warning," he said as soft music began to fill the space—something classical and romantic that seemed perfect for the setting. "I'm much better at growing things than I am at dancing."

"That's okay," she said, extending her hand to him with a dancer's natural grace. "I'm pretty good at following a lead, even an unconventional one."

The moment he took her hand, she understood why he loved dancing in this space.

Surrounded by living beauty and soft light, moving to music that seemed to emerge from the very air around them, it felt magical in a way that formal ballrooms never had.

There was no audience to impress, no steps to perfect, no pressure to be anything other than present in the moment.

Gus proved to be a surprisingly capable dancer, if unconventional in his style.

He moved with the same natural rhythm she'd observed in all his activities, turning their dance into something between a waltz and a celebration, spinning her among the flowering vines and laughing when she improvised ballet steps that turned their simple dance into something more elaborate.

"You're incredible," he said as he spun her around the fountain, her dress flaring out around her legs. "I've never seen anyone move like that."

"You're not bad yourself," she replied, breathless with laughter and exertion. "This is so much better than any formal dance I've ever attended."

They moved together through the greenhouse, sometimes following the music's rhythm, sometimes creating their own as they navigated around tables and through narrow paths between plant displays.

When the song changed to something slower, more intimate, Gus pulled her closer, and she found herself swaying against him in the candlelit space, the scent of flowers and earth and his own warm smell creating an intoxicating atmosphere.

"Marigold," he said softly, his voice barely audible above the gentle music and the sound of trickling water.

"Yes?" she whispered, looking up into his face and seeing something there that made her breath catch—desire, yes, but also tenderness and the kind of careful hope that spoke to someone who understood the value of what he was asking for.

"Can I give you a kiss?" he asked, the question so polite and respectful that it made her chest tight with emotion. "I know things are complicated, and I don't want to presume, but being here with you like this... I can't stop thinking about how much I'd like to kiss you."

The honesty in his request, the way he asked for permission rather than simply taking what he wanted, made the decision easy. This was what respect looked like, what care felt like when it came from someone who truly understood consent.

"Yes," she said simply, her hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms.

The kiss, when it came, was everything she'd expected from Gus—gentle and respectful, but with an underlying current of yearning that spoke to depths of feeling he'd been carefully containing.

His lips were soft against hers, his hands cradling her face with the same delicate attention he showed his most precious plants.

There was no demand in the contact, no attempt to take more than she offered, just a pure expression of affection that made her understand why his mother had been so determined to raise him differently from his father.

When they broke apart, both breathing slightly harder, he rested his forehead against hers and smiled—the kind of expression that seemed to light him up from within.

"Thank you," he said quietly, as if she'd given him a gift rather than simply shared a moment of connection.

"Thank you for asking," she replied, meaning it completely. "For making it feel special instead of expected."

They stood together in the soft light, surrounded by the fruits of his passion and creativity, and Marigold found herself wondering why all Alphas couldn't be like this—warm and considerate and secure enough in themselves to let her be exactly who she was without trying to change or improve her.

"We should probably head back," Gus said reluctantly, glancing at the time displayed on his phone. "I promised Meadow I'd help him with evening feeding, and I don't want to leave him handling everything alone."

She nodded, though part of her wanted to stay in this magical space forever, to exist in this bubble where everything felt possible and beautiful.

As they began to extinguish the candles and secure the greenhouse for the night, she helped him with the familiar routine, their movements synchronized in a way that spoke to the easy compatibility they'd discovered.

"I had the most wonderful time," she told him as they prepared to leave, meaning it with every fiber of her being. "Thank you for sharing all of this with me, for letting me into your world."

"Thank you for appreciating it," he replied, his smile warm with satisfaction. "Most people don't understand why I spend so much time out here, but you... you get it. You see what I see."