“I promise the same. Thank you,” I manage to tell him before tears overflow and the dam I’ve built tumbles.

Dex holds me tight into him, whispering his love for me and the future he guarantees we have. It comforts and secures me, but the heartbreak of losing my dad can’t be shaken just yet. The whole night, I fall in and out of sleep, but Dex’s embrace never falters. By morning, I’m in a melancholy mood, but I muster a smile for Dex.

“Feeling any better?” he asks, while his fingers outline figure eights on my bare stomach.

“A little,” I lie.

“Probably with time.” His moist lips hit my neck and a zing rapidly shoots through my body.

“Can I ask you a question?” He picks up his head and his hand stops moving.

“Anything.”

“The money you were talking about last night with my dad,” I mention, not really asking a full question.

“You want it? Did you change your mind?” His face genuine, no alarm in his actions.

“No. You got it from gambling, right?” I ask and his eyes slowly close and his chest rises and falls deeply.

“Yeah,” he confirms, guilt still residing in his demeanor. “I want to talk to you about it.”

I scoot up on the bed, my back arches from the cold iron headboard and then relaxes back down. “What about?”

“I want you to have it for school.” He grabs both of my hands and huddles them together as though we’re in the middle of a snowstorm.

“No, Dex. It’s your money. I don’t want it.” My head quickly shaking back and forth.

“Come on, Chris—”

“End of discussion, Dex.” I release my hands and his jaw drops. I swing my legs over the bed, but his muscled arms wrap around my stomach.

“Okay … okay. You win,” he says in my ear, “now come back down and lay with me for a bit.”

I allowed Dex to coax me back into the warmth of the bed, nuzzling up to my own personal heater. “One day though, Chrissy … you’ll be enrolling at Western.”

As much as I want my dream of becoming a college student one day to reach true, I hate owing anyone to obtain it.

IT’S BEEN A month and the thirty thousand has been burning a damn hole in my safe. I need something unique to make sure she doesn’t decline it or can’t refuse. Everyday I give her some explanation why she should use it, that I’ll never do anything with the money. Her resolve is wearing, I can tell. Sadie and Brady went up to Niagara Falls to celebrate their anniversary, and I asked Rob to disappear for tonight, so it’s just me and Chrissy.

I drop Chrissy at work as usual and I walk down to Lily’s Florist. The minute I enter, the fragrant smell overwhelms my senses, and I have no idea what people love about them. A middle-aged woman peers up and smiles before placing a pen down and emerging from behind the counter. “Hello. How can I help you?” she asks, and I spot this pink flower arrangement that Chrissy described to me last night. She’s been coming here twice a week, putting them together on her lunch hour.

“Hi, Lily?” I question, and she tilts her, wondering if she should know me.

“My name is Dex Prescott. I’m Chrissy Dawson’s boyfriend.” I introduce myself, and she smiles wider.

“Oh,” she says, “what a lucky guy you are.” She smirks.

“That I am,” I agree.

“So, what brings you in?”

“I need to buy a few arrangements. Her arrangements.”

“You don’t have to buy them. I offer them to Chrissy each time, but she declines.” I know why she declines because Sadie filled me in on the fact that Chrissy has never received even one flower from someone, let alone a bouquet.

“Yeah, I know. But I insist on paying.” I dig my hand in my pocket, but she places her hand on my arm.

“No, if they’re for her, you take them,” she insists.

Relenting, I nod my head. “Okay then, I need to buy a few single ones as well.”

“That we can do,” she tells me and walks over to the glass case that holds white buckets filled with roses.

A few minutes later, I have Chrissy’s last two bouquets and an array of roses.

HAVING SOME TIME to kill, I walk around the gallery and admire Ryland’s paintings. Ryland busies himself, sorting through some new framed ones that he just completed.

“I can’t believe this one hasn’t sold,” I say, pointing to ‘Unfixable’. I love everything it portrays so much, I’d contemplated making an offer.

His head raises, and then he gets to his feet. Meeting me in front the painting, he rubs the back of his head and then gazes at for a few seconds. “That’s my wife,” he reveals.

“Oh, Ryland, I had no idea you were divorced.”

“Widower,” he clarifies, his eyes still fixed on the painting. My heart plummets that he’s so young to lose someone he obviously loved from the way his eyes stare at the painting with so much affection. “I’ve had offers, but I just can’t part with it.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize for his loss and for embarrassingly prying into his life by asking about it.

“She suffered,” he pauses. “I’m glad she’s no longer in pain.” He turns to me, giving me a tight smile that never reaches his eyes. It’s the first time I’ve seen Ryland so melancholy and sadness washes through me that I brought up the subject that elicited his mood.

I touch his shoulder, and he steps a little closer. “Never take a day for granted, Chrissy.” He turns around and disappears behind his office door.

Fifteen minutes later, Dex strolls in with low slung jeans, his heavier jacket, and hat flipped backwards. I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of ogling his body. “Keep looking, baby. I don’t mind,” he cockily spouts, and I roll my eyes.

Closing the distance, he kisses me hello. “Let’s go,” he urges, nodding his head toward the door.

“Hold on.” I open the drawer to retrieve my purse, and hem and haw if I should tell Ryland I’m leaving. The way he left, I feel like he needs his space. “Give me a sec,” I hold my finger up to Dex and steadily walk to Ryland’s office. Giving a quick knock, I quickly say, “I’m leaving, Ryland. Have a good night.”

“Good night, Chrissy. See you Monday,” he hollers through the door, and my shoulders slump a little, wishing I never would have said anything.

Coming back out, Dex is mindlessly picking up pens and putting them down in the holder, stopping as soon as I turn the corner. “Ready, baby?” he asks, straightening up and holding his hand out for me.

Dex is unusually giddy the whole ride home, and I keep looking out the corner of my eye at him, wondering what’s so great. He parks the truck, and I wait until he comes around to open my door. I begin to walk to the back door and he follows a few steps behind. “What do you want to have for dinner?” I ask him, tossing a glance over my shoulder.

“I don’t care. I’ll order something in,” he casually answers.

Unlocking the door, Dex holds the screen door open for me. We walk through, and I drop my purse on the table, continuing my way to the stairs. “Let me just get out of these clothes.” I start jogging up the stairs. My feet stop at the sight of a single yellow rose on the landing with a note attached to it with a ribbon. “Dex!” I call out, but he doesn’t answer. Unfolding the card, I find his handwritten inscription.

I hold it to my chest, my heart growing for Dex that he was the first to give me a flower. I’m about to walk downstairs when I catch a pink rose lying at the top of the landing. Quickly stomping up the steps, I grab it and flip the card open.