There are so many, and it doesn't just stop with the photos.
On the table by the tree sits a silver ice bucket, chilled and misting slightly, with a bottle of prosecco tucked inside. Two glasses rest beside it, and next to that is a large chocolate cake, rich and perfectly iced, with a single twenty-one candle standing proudly in the centre.
“Happy birthday, baby.”
His voice pulls me out of it.
He's standing off to the side near the windows, watching me.
The way he's looking at me is filled with so much love, you can see it as clear as day. Wearing black joggers, low on his hips, his tattoos fully on display. There are scratch marks across his chest—my doing—and his hair is a mess, pushed up and falling slightly out of place.
He looks... Effortless. Relaxed. Happy.
Carefree.
The kind of version of him I could bottle up and keep forever.
“I can't believe you did this,” I blurt out in awe as I look at everything again. “It's so much.”
“Nothing is too much for you.” he retrieves the box and stands in front of me. “I’m going to spoil you every single day for the rest of our lives because you deserve everything and more.”
I can't resist teasing him. "You might make me a little high maintenance," I quip, smirking.
“I've got money, baby, so that's not a problem.”
I tilt my head at him, eyes narrowing at the small box. “And what's this?” Its shape is very suspicious.
He passes it over with a twitch of his lips, like he knows what I’m thinking. “Don’t worry, it's not an engagement ring.”
Thank God.
Okay, that came out wrong. It's not that I don't want to marry him; believe me, he is marriage material, obviously. It's just that we are still new, still sneaking around, and unfortunately, he's still married to Rose.
“Call me old-fashioned, but I’d rather be on my knees when I propose to you.”
I smirk. “I think I’d prefer that too.”
He just licks his lips in response, so I start to untie the ribbon wrapped around the box.
When I lift the lid, I hold my breath. All my dirty thoughts vanish.
Inside lies the most beautiful silver necklace, delicate and perfect, with a heart-shaped stone the colour of warm sunlight.
A topaz.
I hold it up, carefully, staring. “A birthstone?” I murmur, half to myself, half to him.
“I’m pretty sure mine's a ruby.”
“It's your dad's.”
And just like that, I fall for him more.
I blink at it, my fingers still. “What?”
“I wanted you to have something connected to him. You both made a big deal out of birthdays, so… I had this made.”
My throat thickens.
