Page 54 of “Not” Engaged to the Grumpy Billionaire

I step closer, closing the distance between us until we’re barely a breath apart. “I’m scared too,” I admit, my voice raw. “But I know one thing for sure: I want you. I’ve tried to convince myself that I don’t, that I shouldn’t, but it’s not working. I need you, Liz.”

Her eyes glisten with tears, and I reach out, brushing my thumb gently across her cheek. “Please,” I whisper. “Stay. At least until Bryan gets back. Let’s figure this out together.”

She hesitates, her gaze flicking to the bag again, then back to me. “I’ll stay,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “But when Bryan gets back, I’m moving to his place.”

It’s not the answer I want, but it’s enough. For now.

I nod, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Thank you.”

She gives me a small, tentative smile, and for the first time in days, I feel a flicker of hope.

I try to steady my racing heart.

The future looks promising.

***

The smell of fresh flowers is everywhere, vibrant and intoxicating, as I step into the florist’s shop. It’s been years—no, more than that—since I’ve done something like this. My past relationships were practical at best, and grand gestures like buying flowers felt pointless back then.

But Liz isn’t just anyone.

She’s been in my head constantly, like a song I can’t stop humming. Every smile, every laugh, every teasing remark has taken root, growing into something I can’t ignore.

I wander through the aisles, eyeing the vibrant bouquets arranged in neat rows. Roses, lilies, daisies. There’s so much to choose from, but nothing seems good enough.

“She likes bright colors,” I murmur to myself, remembering how Liz lights up at the simplest things. Her joy is infectious, the kind of thing that lingers long after she’s gone.

“You look lost.”

I glance up to find a woman behind the counter, her smile knowing. She’s probably seen a hundred guys like me, clueless and fumbling.

“First time buying flowers for someone special?” she asks, stepping closer.

I clear my throat, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Not my first time. Just… it’s been a while.”

Her smile widens. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Who’s the lucky lady?”

“She’s…” I trail off, my mind flooded with images of Liz—her laughter, the way her eyes crinkle when she teases me, how she’s made my house feel like a home again. “She’s incredible,” I finish, the words coming out softer than I intended.

The florist hums thoughtfully, her gaze sweeping over the arrangements. “She sounds special. Let’s find something that says that.”

As she gathers a bouquet of yellow daisies, white lilies, and soft pink roses, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the screen, half-expecting it to be something work-related, but it’s not. It’s a message from Liz, thanking me for dropping her off earlier and asking if I’ll be back in time for lunch.

My chest tightens. Just a simple text, but it’s enough to make my day.

I murmur a thanks when she hands the flowers to me. I should leave, but something holds me back.

“Wait,” I say, setting the bouquet on the counter. “I need to add a note.”

She slides a small card and pen toward me. “Take your time.”

I pick up the pen, staring at the blank card. What do I even write?

At first, I consider something simple, likeHope this makes you smile. But that feels generic and impersonal. Liz deserves more.

The words come slowly at first, then all at once:

You light up every room you walk into. I don’t want to imagine my days without that smile.

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