Not tonight.
Tonight I was going to say them while she was awake.
While she could see my face.
I crossed to the terrace doors and pulled them open, letting the late afternoon light spill across the patio.
The flowers were there.
Cascades of deep crimson roses lined the railing, petals catching the gold of the setting sun. White fairy lights threaded through them—quiet for now, waiting to glow once the sun fell.
It wasn't enough. Would never be.
I knew that with absolute certainty.
The click of heels on marble pulled me back inside.
"Alright, boss." Ava appeared in the hallway, tablet in hand. "Checklist time."
"Hit me."
She swiped to the next screen. "Chefs arrived twenty minutes ago. They're set up in the kitchen—sous vide is running, sauces are reducing, and I've been explicitly told not to touch anything."
A pointed look.
"Apparently my help isnot needed."
"Imagine that," I muttered.
"Rude," she shot back, without heat. "Moving on."
She gestured toward the open doors. "Terrace?"
"Done."
"It looks amazing," I told her.
Way better than the rough sketch I'd scribbled on a napkin three days ago—half-panicked and sleep-deprived.
"She's going to lose her mind."
She checked something off. "And my world-famous chocolate ganache is chilling in the refrigerator. Three tiers. Perfect."
My mouth fell open, remembering the taste of the ganache.
"Close your mouth." Ava shot me a look. "You're drooling."
"I'm in complete control," I lied.
"Sure you are." She checked another box, clearly unconvinced. "Anything else you need before I make myself scarce?"
"No. I'm good."
Another lie.
"Alright." She tucked the tablet under her arm. "Everyone arrives in an hour. I touched base with Rosie—she's already crying."
I chuckled under my breath. "Thanks, Ava. You're the best."
