THIRTY-SEVEN

The morning after was quite eventful. First, I was awakened by a sweet note on my dresser with a rose on it. I read it to myself while sniffing on the rose, and the bottom left of the note wrote, “From: Your forever.”

I blushed at this gesture, knowing Michael’s effort was soon to pay off given how my heart reacted to it.

There was a knock on the door. I dropped the rose and note on the dresser as I went to address who was at the door. I doubt it was Michael, though.

As I opened the door, I was immediately greeted by one of my house helpers as she went on to relay the message she came for: “Good morning, ma. Mr. Thatcher has informed me that you should have your bath; the make-up and hair stylist are currently on their way."

“He told you that?” I said with a short smile that I couldn’t keep my mouth in one place. It has been a long time since Michael has done this sort of thing, and most times it was never genuine, watching him go all out. My God, maybe I wasn’t wrong to give myself a