I spent twenty minutes on my hair.
That’s not something I do. I wash it, I let the curls do what they want, I leave. But tonight I stood in front of the mirror and pinned it up slowly, pulling a few curls loose around my face, and then I looked at myself in the yellow dress I bought six months ago and never wore and thought — okay. This is good actually.
Just me. Yellow dress. Good earrings. Hair up for once in my life.
I go downstairs.
Tyler is at the door with sunflowers. Small ones, bright and yellow, almost too cheerful to argue with, and he looks up when he hears me on the stairs and goes completely still.
He doesn’t say anything for a second.
Just looks.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.” He blinks. Then he holds out the flowers. “These are for you.”
“They’re perfect,” I say, and I
