By six o'clock in the evening, they had returned to the estate.
Outside, a heavy, peaceful rain had begun to fall again, tapping softly against the wide glass dome of the sunroom. Inside, the room was a bright, breathtaking paradise.
Grayson had spent the last hour placing the dozens of fresh yellow roses into tall crystal vases, arranging them around the yellow rug, near the green monstera plants, and alongside the glowing strings of golden fairy lights. The room smelled heavenly—a sweet mix of fresh rain, warm wood, and fragrant yellow roses.
Mailah sat comfortably on her long sofa, wrapped in her fluffy pink blanket, watching Grayson work.
He had finally taken off his duck apron, but he was still wearing the soft cream sweater. He walked over to the sofa, carrying a small silver tray with two fresh cups of tea. He set the tray down on the coffee table and sat on the soft yellow rug right at her feet.
