Pale lagers were a favorite at the Canadian bars and they also happened to be a favorite for Michael and Adam. I liked to stick to the hard ciders, especially now that it was approaching autumn again. Quebec was so beautiful in the fall and there was just something about drinking a crisp hard cider in a cozy little pub with the leaves changing color outside.

We drank several rounds more than we should and listened to Adam tell us all about his brief little encounters with Anna. From the way he described her, he was already pretty smitten.

“I think she’s a great person,” I said.

I tried not to slur my words together too much, but the cider was making it hard for me to articulate clearly at this point.

“Not only because of all that she did to help us, but because of everything that she does for so many. She’s beautiful inside and out.”

“Thanks, Lisette,” Adam said as he threw his arm around my shoulder and gave me a big, sloppy, drunken kiss on the cheek.

I giggled and set my glass mug down so that I could wrap my arms behind both of the guys who were sitting next to me in the booth and bring them closer to me for a big bear hug.

“So,” Adam said once I had finally let them both go, and the bartender had come around with another set of filled mugs. “When are you two going to get married?”

That was the kind of question that could sober somebody up real quick. It took me completely by surprise and from the look of Michael’s jaw hanging open, it took him by surprise too.

“Married?” I repeated sarcastically.

“Yeah, you guys are going to be getting your own apartment, you’re finally safe and free to be together here, and you’re not siblings so that’s a plus.” He found himself so funny at that last part that he nearly snorted beer through his nose as he tried not to laugh.

Michael, on the other hand, still looked pretty shocked. I figured that I would throw him a bone and save him from having to answer this one—even though I was pretty damn tipsy myself.

“I don’t think anyone has had any time to think about getting married,” I laughed. “Jesus, we finally made it more than a couple months without having to either run for our lives or attempt to dismantle corruption at a grand level. I don’t think that thought has crossed anyone’s mind.”

Adam shrugged playfully and took another big swig of his beer. I held my cider up to my lips and did the same, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Michael had gone from being scarlet red to alabaster pale. He was quiet as he raised his glass and swallowed nearly the entire thing in one gulp. I wished that I knew why he looked like he had seen a ghost. I wished that I knew whether it was because the thought of getting married terrified him, or whether the fact that he had already been thinking about it did.

Adam continued on with more talk about Anna and even though I pretended that I was listening, I found myself getting tangled up inside my own head instead. I couldn’t stop thinking about Adam’s question. It didn’t even matter whether or not it was asked in a drunken stupor. Now that he’d asked it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Mostly, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I thought about it. The thought of getting married hadn’t crossed my mind. I had spent too much time thinking about life or death situations, and about who I would choose, and about making sure that Michael and I stayed together and weren’t ever apart again. But now—married? Even though I had never entertained the idea before, it seemed to become instantly an obsession. Did I even want to marry Michael? Did I even want to get married at all? The answer to both of those questions was a resounding yes.

But what did Michael think about it? Every time that I thought I had him figured out, I realized that I didn’t. Things that would frighten any living person, didn’t seem to frighten him at all. But then I remembered my pregnancy scare and how terrified and paralyzed with fear he was, and I realized that things most people would be at excited about, horrified him. I had no idea how he would feel about marriage. It wasn’t as if either of us had shining examples of marriage in our families. Our parents’ relationships were completely screwed up. The look on his face when Adam posed the question was a drastic one, but I wasn’t sure what it meant.

It was ridiculous for me to even think about this anyway because unless Michael decided to suddenly propose, there wasn’t any point in fantasizing about it.

I finished my cider, and the guys finished their last beer. Then we all headed back to the shelter. When we got there, the three of us piled into the single bed in the room together and we were all asleep within moments of our heads touching the pillow.

The next morning when we woke up, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I didn’t have a headache. Adam had already gotten up out of bed and gone to work on his newest mural, one that was on the outside of the building and was a tribute to how beautiful Quebec is. His art skills were getting better and better by the day. I laid in bed in Michael’s arms for a few lazy moments and didn’t want to get up.

“Can’t we just stay right here forever?” I asked with a grin.

“I would love to,” he laughed. “But I seem to recall that you had a date with someone in the garden this morning.”

Oh shit!

He was right and I had almost forgotten. One of the single young women that lived here while she was trying to get back up on her feet, had a young, teenage daughter. The girl was very sweet, and she had taken an interest in the garden that I had started building for the shelter. I promised her that if she met me in the garden this morning that I would show her how to plant the flowers and let her pick out where to place some of them. This poor girl and her mom had nothing except what Anna had given them at the shelter, and the clothes on their backs. Her mom was working as a waitress during the breakfast shifts at one of the local coffee shops, and the girl was homeschooled. So that meant that she had the morning free to come and do some gardening with me.

I loved gardening. Ever since I was a child, it reminded me of my mother. It now also reminded me of the garden that I had started at the cabin in Asheville. It was all bittersweet and that was okay. Now at least I could put my gardening skills to good use again.

I jumped out of bed rather abruptly, leaving Michael still lying there with his bare chest half-covered by the blanket.

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I really didn’t want to get out of bed, but I need to go meet her. I promised.”

Michael smiled at me and flexed his chest muscles just to be a playful tease.

“It’s okay,” he laughed. “Go, have fun with that girl and show her how to make something beautiful out of dirt.”

I pulled clothes on, tied my hair up in a messy bun on the top of my head, and then leaned down over the bed to kiss him before I left. His lips were warm, and soft, and so tantalizing that I almost didn’t make it out of the bedroom.

“It’s been too long since we’ve had each other,” he sighed against my lips.

I could feel the palpable angst that he felt. It rose in the air between us.

“Agreed,” I whispered back as I slowly pulled my body away from his hands before I let him pull me back into the bed with him again.

“We’ll need to rectify that,” I winked as I went out the door.

When I got to the garden, she was already there.

“Good morning,” I said as I raced up to greet her. “I’m so sorry that I’m late.”

“That’s okay,” she smiled. “Besides, you’re not that late at all. I was early.”

“Ready to get started?”

“Yep!” she grinned.

I handed her some garden tools and pulled a fresh bag of soil down. Adam had built us a wooden box to act as the bed for the garden. I told him that I wanted to make a large outdoor box garden, and he had surprised me by building the perfect frame for it.

“After we spread the soil, we’ll pick out which seeds and seedlings that you want to plant,” I explained. “There’s wildflowers, herbs, and even some strawberries and a few vegetables.”

She turned her nose up at the mention of vegetables and I laughed.

“Okay, we can stick to the herbs and strawberries then.”

“And the flowers?”

“Yes, of course,” I smiled at her. “Especially the flowers. They’re the prettiest part.”

She looked a bit pensive and got quiet as we spread the soil. After we finished that part of the project, I let her choose which seedlings she wanted to put in first.

“What is this one?” she asked as she pointed to a small plant.

“Rosemary,” I answered. “It’s not the prettiest plant, but if you rub your fingers gently on the leaves, you can smell how delicious its scent is.”

I showed her what I meant by gently rubbing the thin little leaves of the plant and then smelling my fingertips. She did the same.

“I want to plant this one,” she said. “It reminds me of myself.”