The air between us feels charged, different from before.
"What about these?" I point to some pale blue hydrangeas, needing something to focus on besides the warmth radiating from his body so close to mine.
"They're nice," he says, but he's not looking at the flowers.
Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I forget to breathe.
His gaze drops to my lips before quickly returning to my eyes.
I wonder if he's remembering how I tasted, because that’s what I’m remembering.
The florist finds us tucked away among exotic orchids, her face brightening with delight.
"Such a handsome couple," she says, clasping her hands together. "I've been arranging wedding flowers for forty years, and I can always tell when a marriage will last. You two have that special look."
Cristian stiffens beside me. "Actually?—"
"Thank you," I interrupt, slipping my arm through his and pressing against his side. "We're very happy."
Cristian's eyes widen in surprise, but I lean close to whisper, "Just go with it." I don’t know what I’m doing.
Why I’m doing it.
I’m sure he’s thinking I’m back to my old tricks.
He hesitates, then something shifts in his expression. "I'm the luckiest man alive."
The elderly woman beams at us. "Now, let me show you our selection of centerpieces. I have some lovely arrangements that would complement your coloring perfectly." She gestures for us to follow her to another section of the greenhouse.
As soon as she turns away, I glance up at Cristian, expecting to see discomfort or regret.
Instead, his eyes hold mine with startling intensity.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," he says softly. "Just playing my part."
But it doesn't feel like playing when he laces his fingers through mine, his thumb brushing across my knuckles sending shivers up my spine.
We follow the florist through a maze of blooms, stopping occasionally to admire particularly stunning flowers.
"What do you think of these,Cara Mia?" he asks, indicating a cluster of pale pink peonies.
The endearment falls from his lips so naturally, it steals my breath away.
At this moment, I allow myself to imagine this is real.
That Cristian is truly mine, that we're planning our future together.
I lean my head against his shoulder, breathing in his scent. "They're perfect.”
"Just like you.” His arm tightens around my waist.
My heart stutters in my chest. This dangerous game we're playing feels too real, too right. When his hand slides to the small of my back, guiding me toward another display, I can almost believe we belong to each other.
For these stolen moments, surrounded by beauty, I let myself forget what awaits me.
I forget Maksim, forget duty, forget everything but the warmth of Cristian's hand and the tender way he looks at me.
