Hours had passed since practice ended, but Liam hadn’t gone straight home. His brand-new BMW had veered instinctively toward a small flower shop tucked beside the bakery in town. He parked, hesitated for only a moment, and then went inside. Fifteen minutes later, he stepped back out into the golden spill of late afternoon with a bouquet of soft pink roses in one hand and a box of macarons in the other.
He didn’t even know if Ashley liked macarons. Maybe they were too fancy, too sweet, or too delicate. But he couldn’t help himself. The day had gone better than he could’ve imagined, and there was this strange sense humming through his chest — like possibility. He wanted to share it with someone. And the only person who came to mind was her.
As he pulled into her gravel driveway, the tires crunched loudly against the stones. Her new truck was parked there, beside him, and he let the engine idle for a moment before shutting it off. The porch light hadn’t flicked on yet, but dusk was falling fast, casting long shadows through the trees.
Liam sat there, gripping the steering wheel, staring out through the windshield.
The driveway.
His eyes dropped to the uneven stretch of gravel, the ruts and loose rocks. He hadn’t brought it up, but he was going to pave this for her. It might seem small, maybe even presumptuous, but in his mind, it was necessary. The idea of her possibly slipping on packed ice or, worse yet- her trying to shovel through frozen gravel in the previous winter – alone – made his chest tighten.
She deserved better.
And he could do it. He could make things easier, safer. Maybe couldn’t figure out where they stood, but she was his wife. It might be on paper, but that had to count for something if they both tried, right? This, the driveway, was something tangible he could do.
Flowers crinkling slightly in his grip, he stepped out into the cool air and walked toward the house. He unlocked the front door quietly and stepped inside. The warm light from the kitchen spilled across the hardwood floor, wrapping around him in welcome. He expected to see her standing at the counter, maybe looking up with that guarded smile.
But the room was empty.
Still, something pulled his attention toward the windows at the back of the house. And then he saw her.
Ashley stood outside, just past the edge of the porch, her silhouette outlined against the growing shadows of evening. Her arms were folded tightly over her chest, hugging a thick sweater around her as she looked up toward the sky. The last light of day caught in her hair and made it shimmer, casting her in a soft, ethereal glow. She looked peaceful. Untouchable. Like something out of a dream he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have.
Liam’s breath caught in his throat.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t call out.
Something in him felt paralyzed — caught in that razor-edge moment between hope and humiliation.
He glanced down at the bouquet in his hands. Pale pink petals trembled with the faint breeze drifting in from the cracked door behind him. The macarons were balanced in the crook of his arm, their pastel colors cheerful and light.
What was he doing?
They’d talked. They’d been kind. There’d been nervous laughter, maybe even a few friendly looks — but nothingdefinitive. Nothing that said,“Yes, I like you the way you like me.”His stomach churned as doubt crept in like fog through an open window.
He’d known her for a single day. One incredible, unexpected, eye-opening day. And here he was — holding roses like some kind of lovesick fool.
Maybe he was imagining things. Maybe Nadine had been right when she sneered and called him a loser. Maybe he wasso desperate that he took somechanceand built something in his head that wasn’t real.
Was he really going to walk out there, roses in hand, and just… offer himself like that? What if she looked at him with confusion or pity? What if she backed away? What if Ashley wasn’t interested in him?
Fear prickled along his spine.
One step back.
Then another.
He moved quietly, stealthy almost, and set the roses into a tall glass of water by the sink. He placed the box of macarons beside it, arranging it just so. Not too much. Not too obvious. Just a quiet gesture.
Casual but sweet.
Kind without being romantic.
Friendly without crossing a line.
It felt safer that way.
