Red Riding Jack
I opened the door, and there he was—Jack, looking at me as if I held the stars in my eyes. His hair neatly trimmed, the absence of his usual five o'clock shadow making his features even more striking.
"God, Amanda, you are beautiful," he breathed, pulling me close by the waist. His eyes, deep and full of emotion, met mine. There was a single rose in his hand, and he brought it between us. I took it from him and locked eyes with him.