Ava
Thepastfewweekshave been amazing. Elijah’s been sleeping over almost every night. Our mornings are full of laughter, cuddles, and more than a few orgasms. Every day, he makes me breakfast and coffee, then walks me to my shop before heading to his studio.
Without even trying, we’ve slipped into this little routine that makes everything feel calm and easy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy before. And yeah, it still scares me sometimes—feeling this good, this safe—but Elijah keeps showing up. Every single day.
He never misses a chance to tell me how amazing he thinks I am. And little by little, I’m starting to believe him. Just a bit more each day.
Maybe I really am that person he sees when he looks at me.
And when I start to relax, something has to happen. It starts small. Just a single piece of paper. No envelope, no name, folded neatly and slipped under the shop door. At first, I think it’s a receipt or maybe something Elijah or some customer dropped off, but when I open it, my stomach tightens.
No name. No context. No handwriting I recognize.
I chalk it up to a customer being… weird. Maybe it was meant for someone else, and it just ended up here. A mistake.
But then, the next day, there's another one on the counter before I open.
Okay. Maybe not a mistake.
Still… it doesn’t feel threatening. Just… odd. Quiet flattery. An anonymous admirer, maybe. A reader with a crush.
I don’t tell Elijah. He’d growl and pace and probably find whoever’s doing it and tattoo “Back off” on their forehead.
Until today.
I’m behind the register, restocking bookmarks, when the bell chimes and a delivery guy walks in.
“Flowers for Ava Harrington.” the delivery man says
He hands me the bouquet—roses. Deep red. Cute? My name is on the little card, but the envelope is blank. No sender. No note this time.
Just my name.
The sudden flutter in my chest is warm and giddy. Elijah. It has to be.
He never buys me flowers. That’s not his thing. But maybe… maybe today, it is.
I grab my phone and type a message without thinking.
Me: Thank you for the flowers.. You spoil me ????
I barely get the smile on my face when my phone buzzes so hard it jumps on the counter.
Elijah_Babe: What flowers?
My stomach drops. Another buzz. Then another.
Elijah_Babe: Ava, what flowers?
Elijah_Babe:I’m coming. Don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be there in 5.
Elijah bursts in with such force, I’m surprised he doesn’t rip the door off its hinges. The small bell above it barely manages a ring before it clatters back into silence, swinging wildly in his wake.
His eyes scan the room in an instant—wild, searching—until they land on me. There’s something fierce in his expression. Not anger. Urgency.
I stand instinctively, heart in my throat. He crosses the space between us in seconds, and suddenly his hands are on my face, in my hair, gripping me like I might disappear. His breath is uneven, like he ran to get here. To get to me.
“Elijah—”
