The quiet morning light filtered through the shop windows, softening the colors of the flowers and painting the room in pale gold. Ethan stood just inside the doorway, holding the tray with two steaming cups. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Amelia felt that warm flutter again—
the one that settled low in her chest
whenever Ethan looked at her like she mattered.
She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the edge of the tray lightly.
"You really brought tea," she said softly.
"I told you I would," he replied, his voice warm.
"And I wanted to make sure you started your morning feeling calm."
Her breath caught at the tenderness in his tone.
"What did you get?" she asked.
He lifted the cup meant for her.
"Your usual—jasmine. Light honey. The way you like it."
She blinked, surprised.
"You remembered?"
Ethan's gaze softened.
"I remember everything you tell me."
Amelia looked down, suddenly shy, but a smile slowly bloomed on her lips.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
He handed her the drink carefully, making sure her fingers didn't brush the hot lid. But Amelia's fingers grazed his when she took it—soft, intentional, a whisper of closeness.
Ethan stilled for a heartbeat.
"You opened early," he said gently, eyes scanning the shop.
Amelia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I woke up… feeling inspired."
"Because of last night?"
She met his gaze—briefly, but with honesty.
"Yes."
Ethan's breath softened.
"I'm glad," he murmured.
He placed his own cup on the counter and leaned against it, watching her with that same calm attentiveness she was slowly growing addicted to.
"What are you working on?" he asked.
Amelia lifted a bundle of pale roses wrapped loosely in twine.
"Just rearranging. And I started a new bouquet design."
Ethan moved closer—not too near, just within her space enough to make her aware of him.
"Can I see?"
Amelia hesitated, then nodded.
"Of course."
He watched as she picked up a few petals, gently trimming their edges. Her hands moved with a grace he couldn't look away from.
"You're talented, Amelia," he said softly.
She paused, her fingers hovering in the air.
"No one's ever said that to me."
"Then the people around you weren't paying attention," he replied.
Her cheeks warmed.
She placed the roses in a vase, arranging them carefully, letting the petals fall into place. Ethan watched silently—no pressure, no interruption, just admiration.
When she finished, she stepped back with a shy smile.
"What do you think?"
Ethan's eyes softened.
"It's beautiful. Like everything you touch."
Amelia felt the words land deep inside her, gentle and sincere.
"You're going to make me nervous if you keep saying things like that," she murmured.
"Do I want you nervous?" he asked softly.
"No.
But I do want you to know what you mean to me."
Her heart fluttered so hard she had to grip the counter subtly.
"What do I mean to you?" she whispered before she could stop herself.
Ethan inhaled slowly, his chest rising with quiet intensity.
"You mean," he said, choosing each word with care,
"that I think about you in the morning.
I worry if you don't sleep well.
I look forward to hearing your voice.
And last night… being close to you felt like something I've been waiting for without realizing it."
Amelia's breath trembled.
"Ethan…" she whispered.
He stepped closer—
slow, gentle, cautious—
giving her room to step away.
She didn't.
"May I?" he asked softly.
She didn't know what he meant until his fingers brushed her forearm lightly—barely there, just a whisper of warmth.
Amelia's breath caught, but she didn't flinch.
"Yes," she whispered.
His touch stayed soft, warm, grounding.
"I won't rush you," he murmured.
"But I want you to know that being near you feels natural to me."
Amelia's throat tightened with emotion.
"I feel that too," she said.
A small, relieved smile touched Ethan's lips.
"Then we'll keep going slowly. Together."
Amelia nodded, her voice barely audible.
"Together."
He let his fingers slide away gently, respecting every inch of her space while still staying close enough to make her feel connected.
"Can I help you with anything this morning?" he asked.
She bit her lip, trying not to smile.
"You can keep me company."
Ethan's expression softened completely.
"I'd like that," he whispered.
So he stayed in the shop—
sipping tea,
watching her arrange flowers,
offering quiet thoughts,
sharing soft smiles.
And every few moments, Amelia caught herself glancing at him—
not with fear,
not with uncertainty,
but with growing warmth…
the kind that felt like the beginning of something steady and beautiful.