Daddy’s Good Girl
“Isaiah we've run out of space to put them. I'm going to be discharged soon,”
“You could open a florist shop with all these flowers,” Sasha said from where she sat beside my bed.
I looked around helplessly. She wasn’t wrong. The room looked like a florist’s dream. There were vases filled with roses, tulips, lilies, peonies, daisies, every color imaginable on every flat surface. Even the little table by my bed had two new arrangements from this morning. I loved flowers, he knew I did, but this was too much.