Jasmine's POV
Christopher was buzzing with barely contained excitement when I came downstairs the next morning. He'd already set the table for breakfast, complete with fresh flowers in a vase I'd never seen before.
"Good morning, mate." The endearment sounded foreign in his mouth. "I made something really good."
I glanced at the spread. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, fresh fruit. All arranged like something from a restaurant.
"You didn't have to do all this."
"I wanted to." He pulled out my chair with a flourish. "After all, today is a big day."
Right. The day he thought I'd finally heal his precious mother.
I sat, watching him hover like an overattentive waiter. He poured my orange juice, asked if I wanted more syrup, even offered to cut my pancakes.
It was pathetic.
"Are you nervous?"
