SCARLETT
Ethan arrived on a Thursday evening with flowers.
Not roses, which would've been too much, but a loose bunch of yellow tulips that he handed to my mother with an easy smile and absolutely no sign of nerves.
"Mrs Laurent," he said warmly. "Thank you for having me."
Mom took the tulips and melted immediately. I watched it happen in real time, her eyes going soft, her smile widening into something genuine. She looked at me over his shoulder with an expression that said *finally.*
"Please, call me Cynthia," she said. "Come in, come in."
I exhaled slowly.
Ethan caught my eye as he stepped inside and gave me the smallest nod. *I've got this.* I almost felt bad about how good he was at this.
Almost.
Simon was in the living room when we came through, standing by the bar cart with
