The fluorescent hum of the flower shop was the only sound accompanying the rhythmic snip-snip of Sunny's shears.
Her shift had officially ended twenty minutes ago, but the morning rush required a dozen pre-arranged baskets.
She was lost in the scent of damp earth and eucalyptus when the bell above the door chimed—a lonely, silver sound that cut through the quiet.
Olivia didn't say a word. She simply leaned against the doorframe, her designer coat draped over her shoulders like armor.
She watched Sunny's hands move with a grace that made Olivia's chest ache.
The weekend at her grandparents' estate had been a choreographed disaster.
Her Nana, ever the optimist and never the realist, had thought dinner was the perfect setting for a "reconciliation." She had invited Juliet—the woman who had stripped Olivia's trust bare, stolen from her accounts, and vanished overseas without so much as a goodbye.
The evening had been a farce. Olivia had spent hours watching her grandparents play matchmaker, oblivious to the predator at their table.
Juliet had tried her old tricks—the lowered voice, the lingering touches, the practiced seduction that once would have brought Olivia to her knees.
But tonight, her charms felt like cheap glass. Every time she leaned in, Olivia's mind drifted to the quiet florist with the dirt under her fingernails and the honest light in her eyes. All she could think about was Sunny.
Sunny finished the final basket with a flourish, twirling it toward the display. When she turned to grab the watering can, she jumped, nearly knocking over a vase of lilies.
"Jesus! You... you startled me," Sunny gasped, clutching her chest as her heart hammered against her ribs.
Olivia didn't apologize. She didn't move for a long moment, just drank in the sight of Sunny fumbling to regain her composure.
It was a strange realization—that in a city of millions, this cramped, petal-strewn shop was the only place Olivia wanted to be.
Moving with a slow, predatory grace, Olivia crossed the floor.
Before Sunny could ask what was wrong, Olivia's hands were on her waist. With effortless strength, she hoisted Sunny up, seating her firmly on the cool marble of the workstation counter.
"Olivia? What are you doing?" Sunny's voice was a breathless whisper, her eyes wide with confusion.
Olivia didn't answer. Her gaze dropped to Sunny's lips, her own breath coming in ragged, uneven hitches.
The frustration of the weekend, the ghost of Juliet, and the months of unspoken tension finally snapped.
Without a word, Olivia leaned in, her lips crashing against Sunny's.
It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was a desperate reclamation. Surprised, Sunny instinctively tried to pull back, her hands coming up to Olivia's shoulders to find space.
But Olivia wouldn't allow it. She caught Sunny's wrists in one hand, pinning them gently but firmly, while her other hand slid behind Sunny's head, fingers tangling in her hair to hold her close. Olivia kissed her as if she were a drowning woman and Sunny was the only air left in the world.
The morning sun filtered through the blinds, but Sunny barely noticed the light. Her fingers drifted upward, tracing the outline of her lower lip. The ghost of a sensation lingered there—a pressure that shouldn't have happened, a spark that had set her world on fire.
I can't believe she kissed me.
The question of what came next haunted her, a puzzle with missing pieces. To find the answer, Sunny had to look back at the wreckage of the night before.
The Previous Night
The air in the shop had been thick, charged with a tension that finally snapped. Olivia had pulled away slowly, her gaze anchored to Sunny's lips as if she were memorizing the moment.
Sunny's mind was a whirlwind of static. Why? Olivia was her boss, her mentor—the one person who had promised to wait. The sudden trill of Sunny's phone acted like a bucket of ice water, shattering the spell. Reality rushed back in, cold and demanding.
With a surge of adrenaline, Sunny pushed Olivia aside and scrambled off the counter. She needed distance; she needed air.
"Sunny, wait!" Olivia's voice was desperate. She lunged forward, catching Sunny's wrists. "Let's talk about this... please."
"Let go, Olivia!" Sunny struggled, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
But Olivia was unyielding. Driven by a frantic need to explain—or perhaps to reclaim the heat of the moment—she pinned Sunny against the wall. Before Sunny could protest, Olivia pressed her lips against hers again, a silent plea for understanding.
Sunny didn't melt this time. Panic turned into a sharp, instinctive reflex. She clamped her teeth down, biting Olivia's lip with a force that tasted of salt and iron.
Olivia let out a sharp hiss of pain, her grip slackening for a split second. It was all the opening Sunny needed. She bolted, the chime of the shop door ringing behind her like a funeral bell.
The Present
"Is she alright? I mean, I bit her pretty hard," Sunny muttered to her reflection. She shook her head aggressively. "No. It serves her right. She gave me her word—she said she'd wait until I felt the same. Then she just... throws it all away?"
A thunderous, rhythmic pounding on her bedroom door cut her spiral short.
"Mama Bear! Get up! We're going to be late!"
Sunny jumped. "Shit, Sofia." She'd almost forgotten that Ariana had brought the child home.
She yanked the door open to find Sofia standing there, arms crossed, looking remarkably like a tiny, disgruntled CEO.
"Today is my birthday," Sofia declared, her blue eyes flashing with authority. "Everything must be perfect. I expect you to be dressed and ready before Ian gets here. Understood?"
Sunny blinked, then instinctively snapped a salute. "Yes, Madame."
Sofia surveyed Sunny's messy hair with a judgmental squint. "Dress decently. Don't embarrass me."
With that parting shot, the six-year-old marched down the hallway.
"Ouch," Sunny whispered, closing the door. "Abuela is definitely a bad influence on that kid."
By the time Ian pulled the car around, Sunny was polished and ready, though her nerves remained frayed. When they arrived at the venue, her jaw dropped. Abuela hadn't been joking; the decorations were opulent enough to satisfy a royal court. This wasn't just a party; it was a media event.
As Sofia was whisked away to a dressing room, a familiar voice called out.
"Sunny!"
Sunny turned, her face brightening. "Ariana!"
Standing beside Ariana was a young girl with wide, soulful blue eyes, looking overwhelmed by the glitter of the ballroom.
"Hi there. You must be Zara," Sunny said, softening her voice. "Ariana told me all about you."
"Hi," Zara whispered, shrinking slightly behind Ariana's hip.
"Is Melissa here yet?" Ariana asked, glancing at the entrance. "I can't believe she's late for this."
"Hey, bitches! Cut me some slack," a voice drawled. Melissa appeared, looking radiant despite the exhaustion in her eyes. "I've been in the sky for hours."
The three women collided in a frantic, joyous hug.
"You actually made it," Sunny laughed.
"I'd never miss the kid turning six," Melissa said. Her gaze shifted down to Zara. "And who is this? Zara, right? Your mom mentioned you. I didn't know what you liked, so I took a guess."
Melissa reached into a designer shopping bag and pulled out a smaller, beautifully wrapped gift. Zara looked up at Ariana, her eyes questioning. With a small, encouraging nod from Ariana, Zara took the bag.
As she pulled the tissue paper away, Zara's breath hitched. "No one has ever... ever given me a gift before," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Get used to it, kid," Melissa said with a wink. "There's plenty more where that came from."
Suddenly, the grand staircase creaked. Sofia emerged, draped in a vibrant, ruffled red dress that made her look like a miniature star.
"Papa! Mama! Aunty!" she squealed, forgetting her "Madame" persona and sprinting toward them. She threw herself into Sunny's arms. "Papa Bear, you came!"
"Of course I came, kiddo."
"You look stunning," Melissa added, whistling low. "Abuela really spared no expense."
Sofia turned her attention to Zara, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of a new friend. "You're Zara! Do you want to go try on a pretty dress, too? I have dozens!"
Zara's eyes went wide. "Can I?"
Ariana smiled warmly. "Go ahead, honey."
With a triumphant thumbs-up to Ariana, Sofia grabbed Zara's hand and led her toward the dressing rooms.
Melissa let out a long sigh, leaning against a marble pillar. "Alright, I need twenty minutes of silence before the cameras start flashing. Text me when the madness actually begins."