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“I clipped them from the bushes, and I cut off the thorns before she touched them. No need to worry,” he tells me.

I guess I can throw a couple of dad points his way for that. I don’t give them out often.

“Thanks,” I say tightly. “How was your weekend?”

She had Monday off of school for a holiday, so it really was a weekend for them. A rare occasion with our custody arrangement that usually only allows both of us a single day without getting her ready for school in the morning.

“It was great. Took her down to Grandma and Grampa’s house, and we got to spend some time with aunt Catherine. You swam the weekend away in the pool, didn’t you?” He looks down at her with the last sentence and she nods vigorously.

I miss that house. That indoor pool. His parents. His sister. I miss everything about my old life except for him. I’m glad Dahlia gets to enjoy it, and still sees all of her family often. His sister is incredible and Dahlia adores her. She’s kind, attentive, and fun without being reckless. Catherine is the best aunt to her that I could possibly ask for.

The same goes for his parents. I don’t know how he came out of that family.

“Are you tired, bug?” She nods some more, and I know it’s true. She’d be talking my ear off if she had any energy to spare. “We better get to relaxing then. Have a good night, Caleb.”

“Actually, do you have a minute? To talk?”

Not for you.

But I always make it a point to be nice to him in front of Dahlia.

“Can you set your bag in your room, and I’ll be right there?” I give her a kiss on her forehead as she goes, agreeing without words. She should sleep very well tonight, from the looks of it.

“These are for you, by the way.”

He hands me the rest of the flowers.

“You can’t just go clipping flowers off of people's rose bushes.”

“I didn’t. They’remyrose bushes.”

He looks so smug. I don’t show him the reaction he wants, which is for me to be shocked. Maybe he’s even hoping I’m impressed.

I am both shocked and impressed.

Where the hell did he find the time to plant rose bushes?

Actually, scratch that. I’m sure he didn’t have to do it himself.

“Why are you giving me flowers?”

“I thought it would be a nice thing to do, Reya. I don’t even get a thank you?” he asks.

“You never do nice things for me. There’s an ulterior motive here.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” he says.

“Good,” I say.

He sighs, then pauses.

“I just have to tell you something.”

I groan.

“Oh no, what did you do?”

“Whatever terrible thing you’re assuming, can you stop?”