Maya’s POV
I slammed the phone down so hard the receiver practically bounced, then switched it off with a decisive click. There. Let’s see how you like being ignored, Ethan Quinn.
My fingers drummed against my desk as irritation bubbled up inside me. Men are all the same! The moment they think they’ve got you figured out, they disappear like smoke. I could practically hear his voice in my head: "Sorry Maya, work’s been crazy..." Work, work, work. What am I, chopped liver?
I started pacing, my heels creating a staccato rhythm that somehow matched my racing pulse. He promised he’d visit. PROMISED. How many weeks ago was that now? Three? Four?
If I wanted to date a ghost, I would have signed up for paranormal romance, not whatever this is supposed to be.
The rational part of my brain—the annoying little voice that sounded suspiciously like Serena—whispered that he probably really was swamped with Quinn family business. But the irrational part of my brain, which was currently winning this internal war, wanted to march straight to London and give him a piece of my mind.
Maybe show up at his office in my best dress, just to remind him what he’s been too "busy" to see.
Holy shit!
I collapsed onto my office couch and grabbed a throw pillow, pressing it over my face. This is ridiculous. I’m a successful, independent woman having a meltdown over a man who probably doesn’t even realize he’s in trouble.
But God, it would feel so good to make him grovel just a little bit.
Ethan’s POV
I stared at my phone screen, the "Call Ended" notification mocking me. This had to be the twentieth time Maya had hung up on me this month.
Nobody had warned me relationships would be this complicated. The boardroom negotiations I handled daily suddenly seemed like child’s play compared to navigating Maya’s expectations and my own fumbling attempts at... whatever this was supposed to be.
After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, I made my decision before dawn broke. A few quick calls to reschedule meetings, a hasty briefing with my assistant, and I was booked on the earliest flight to New York.
I arrived empty-handed—a rookie mistake that hit me the moment I stepped off the plane. Spotting a flower shop near Dreamland Studio, I ducked inside, hoping to salvage the situation.
"Red roses, please," I told the shop assistant, who smiled knowingly as she gathered a stunning bouquet.
"Would you like to include a note, sir?" She handed me a small card.
I froze, pen hovering over the blank space. What exactly was I supposed to write? I wasn’t good at this sort of thing—never had been.
The florist noticed my hesitation. "First time buying roses for your girlfriend?" Her smile was gentle, understanding. "If you can’t think of what to say, you could always write the meaning of red roses." She pointed to a poster on the wall.
There it was, simple and direct: "I love you."
My mouth went dry. Despite dating Maya for months, I’d never actually said those three words out loud. Our entire relationship had been her initiative from the start—she’d asked me out, made the first move, said "I like you" first. I’d just nodded and followed along, content to have her in my life without ever verbalizing what I felt.
Our daily phone calls typically featured Maya chattering about her day, her designs, her frustrations with difficult clients, while I listened, offering occasional "hmms" and "I sees." I genuinely enjoyed these conversations—hearing her voice was the highlight of my day—but Maya often accused me of being dismissive or uninterested. How could I explain that I wasn’t good with words, that listening to her was enough for me?
"Sir?" The florist’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. "They’re just three little words. Women like hearing them, you know." She winked. "Loving someone is like tending a garden—you need to give warmth, express your feelings. That’s how love grows."
With a deep breath, I carefully wrote "I love you" on the card, my hand trembling slightly.
"Should I add anything else?" I asked, feeling strangely vulnerable.
"Write both your names with a heart between them," she suggested eagerly.
I followed her advice.
"Perfect! You have beautiful penmanship, sir. I wish you both happiness."
Walking the short distance to Dreamland Studio with the ostentatious bouquet, I felt conspicuous. Heads turned as I passed, but I quickened my pace, focusing only on reaching Maya.
When I entered the reception area, the front desk assistant’s eyes widened—first at the roses, then at recognizing me.
"Yes." I couldn’t meet her eyes, suddenly feeling like a schoolboy presenting his first love letter.
"You think some flowers and a note will make me forgive you?" She raised an eyebrow, but I caught the hint of softness in her voice. "If we hadn’t fought, you wouldn’t even be here right now, would you?"
Panic flared through me. Without thinking, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close before I could overthink it. I felt her stiffen in surprise.
"Ethan? Are you okay?" Her voice had lost its edge, replaced with genuine concern.
"I am now," I murmured against her hair, breathing in her familiar scent. "I know I’ve been too busy lately, but will you let me explain why?"
She patted my back awkwardly. "Fine, but you can let go now."
I released her reluctantly, but kept my hands on her shoulders, needing the connection. "LUXE is opening a branch in New York. I’ve been finalizing everything these past weeks."
Her eyes widened. "What? That’s amazing news! Why didn’t you tell me?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise." I smiled, feeling more confident now that the secret was out. "Everything’s nearly ready."
"So... no more long-distance?" The hope in her voice was unmistakable, and it made my heart clench.
"No more long-distance," I confirmed.
"Thank god!" She threw her arms up dramatically. "I was getting sick of it. Now when we fight, I can just slap you in person instead of hanging up the phone."
I couldn’t help laughing, my heart feeling fuller than it had in weeks. This was exactly why I’d fallen for her—her ability to make everything, even our fights, feel like an adventure.
"Whatever you want, just don’t be angry with me anymore. Please?"
Maya’s cheeks flushed pink, and for once in her life, she seemed speechless, managing only a small nod as she clutched the roses to her chest. In that moment, watching her try to hide her smile behind the flowers, I knew I’d made the right choice coming here.

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