Intricacies of the heart
Crest leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, the smuggest smile I’d ever seen tugging his mouth.
“Good morning, birthday girl,” he murmured, eyes pinned to me like he was seeing every moment from last night replaying in his head.
I couldn’t even glare properly, I was too busy trying not to die of shock as staff gently arranged an entire feast. Croissants filled with pistachio cream, pomegranate spritzers, fresh figs drizzled with honey, eggs baked with herbs, little glass pots of yogurt topped with gold leaf. Bougainvillea petals scattered across the tray like we were in a romance movie. And the cake, three tiers, pale pink, decorated with real orchids. What was I going to do with it.
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