Crash Landing on You - Edelweiss Diaries

Part 18 - Forever entwined - II

Author's note: All the adult/mature disclaimers hold. I understand that I haven't flipped the Mature indicator for this story, but I'm still not convinced that it's needed over one chapter. If you are easily put off by intimate scenes which, in my opinion, is organic to romantic fiction, then kindly refrain.

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Once outside the breakfast place, his phone chimed. Upon checking it, he sighed. There was always something coming up when they were together and she was getting used to waiting even when they were hardly a few feet away.

"The sprinklers didn't turn on. We'll have to stop by the greenhouse before heading home."

She shrugged. "I took the day off. I'm all yours." At once, she cringed catching the slip.

"You better mean it," he said, throwing his brows up, a flicker of mischief in his eyes.

The sun was playing hide and seek from behind the clouds and with a full belly, she fought sleep while the car wound through hairpin bends.

"Are we telling others?" she said, hoping for a conversation, if not a debate. "About us now being married."

She was still getting used to the thought they were now newlyweds, her cheeks heating up from an inexplicable thrill she felt then.

"I'll leave that to you." He smiled catching her eyes and gazed at her a moment longer before turning to the road.

"Not yet," she said, shaking her head. "I don't think everyone will understand."

With that, the outside scenery drew her in...

She woke nearly an hour later with the car parked outside an idyllic greenhouse. Craning her neck she attempted to spot him inside, but the stacked rows of plants obscured her view. She limped her way in and found him examining the irrigation pipes. However, the tiers of tomato plants along the sides and in the middle of the greenhouse caught her attention.

"You have really taken it to another level." She remarked with a laugh. "At least we'll never run out of tomatoes for a lifetime."

Picking up a water hose, he got to his feet and walked towards her. "I didn't know how to even keep a cactus alive and you had gone and brought me a fussy, sickly tomato plant." He sighed. "It took me quite a bit of books to find a way to propagate it and make it last through the winter."

Her brows furrowed. "Are you saying all these are —"

"Not all," he pointed to a section in the back. "Those rows are all from the plant you gifted me. I managed to preserve the seeds and put them as part of the cargo that we shipped out beforehand."

He gazed at her with a distant pain in his eyes. "It's foolish, I know," he said, his ears turning red.

She then saw the single-mindedness with anything to do her. There was a quiet obsession in how he held onto her and the same obstinate part of him had brought about his green thumb.

The man didn't proclaim his love with words. He had only told that he loved her twice at most, and she'd never demanded it of him, out of ego. But that second, she decided she would never ask that of him in the future either. To do so would be an insult.

Love was not a noun to him, but a verb. To be in love, was to do in love.

And she thought she would collapse from the weight of his affections.

Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the metal beam. Will her love ever measure up to his?

He rushed to her side. "Hey, I didn't mean to —" And just like that the water burst through the pipe. "Dammit," he cried shuffling the pipe end from one hand to another, to keep the exploding showers away from them, but the pressure was too high. He dropped it to the floor and the hose wiggled violently like a dying snake, spraying them wet. He ran towards the back and after a second, the pipe was defunct, the last of the water ebbing out in spurts like a gurgling child.