Wren

When Ezra told me I had a package, I didn’t expect a dress, shoes and flowers.

But I wasn’t surprised. It’s Ezra. The man spoils me silly.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, sliding a hand around my waist.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ears. “Thank you. You look great too, but when did you get this dress?”

“When I was sure of the date that we’d be coming here.”

“You spoil me too much, babe.”

“Are you complaining?” He raises a brow.

I laugh. “I could ...