Date = 7 December
Strange how slow time passes when you actually want it to go fast.
Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house)
POV – Melaena
For the final romantic flourish, I place the vase of fresh flowers dead center on the table.
They smell like hope and rose-colored glasses.
I step back, hands on my hips, and admire my work with a smile that’s about eighty percent pride and twenty percent please-don’t-let-this-end-in-therapy.
The table is set properly — candles, plates, folded napkins that look intentional rather than panicked. Alejandro helped me light the fireplace earlier, which felt oddly symbolic, like the universe winking at me or setting me up for a spectacular emotional ambush. The food is tucked away in the oven, warm and waiting, much more stable than I am.
I’m showered
