Page 33 of Red Rose Cupcake

Before I can ask what we’re doing out here, Knox pulls me intohis arms and kisses me, hard and demanding, like he’s been waiting all night for this. His hands roam over my body, pulling me closer, his lips never leaving mine.

“We shouldn’t…” I try to protest, but my words are muffled by his mouth, and my body is already giving in to him.

“Tell me to stop,” he growls, his breath hot against my ear as he presses me against a nearby tree. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

I can’t. Because I do want this. I want him. I always want him.

In the moonlit garden, surrounded by the distant sounds of laughter and music, Knox reminds me exactly what he’s capable of. And for a moment, it feels like it’s just the two of us in the world.

* * *

After we’ve both caught our breath, we sneak back into the reception, joining the crowd like nothing happened. Candace catches my eye and winks, a knowing smile on her lips. I laugh, shaking my head, but my heart feels lighter.

It’s in these little moments—amid the chaos and the routine—that Knox and I always find our way back to each other.

Five Years Later

ROSIE

It’s funny how life can creep up on you, one small thing at a time. You get so caught up in the day-to-day hustle that before you know it, weeks—hell, months—go by, and you realize you barely recognize your own routine. I can’t even remember the last time I sat down to eat a meal without multitasking, let alone spent some real, uninterrupted time with Knox.

I take a sip of my now-cold coffee, watching the chaos of our morning unfold. Our five-year-old daughter, Emma, is running around in her mismatched socks, refusing to sit still while I try to pack her lunch. Meanwhile, our youngest, baby Jayce, is wailing from the highchair, probably upset that I’m not moving fast enough to feed him. My mind’s already checked off a dozen tasks, but it never feels like enough.

I glance at the clock. We’re late. Again.

“Emma, baby, can you please put your shoes on?” I call out, my patience fraying at the edges.

“Mommy, I don’t want these shoes!” Emma whines, dragging her tiny feet across the floor in protest.

I sigh, running my hand through my hair. I’m about threeseconds away from losing it, but I bite back the frustration. If there’s one thing motherhood’s taught me, it’s that losing my cool only makes things worse.

Knox is already out the door, probably on his way to another early client. We had a quick kiss on the cheek as he left, the same rushed goodbye we’ve shared for the past few months. I can’t even remember the last time we had a proper conversation, let alone some time alone.

It’s not like we’re fighting or anything. It’s just… life. Kids. Work. Laundry. Dinners. Bedtime routines. We’ve fallen into this exhausting pattern, where we’re more like co-managers of a household than a couple in love. And it’s been wearing on me in ways I can’t even put into words.

I finally wrangle Emma into her shoes, and we rush out the door, dropping her at preschool and baby Jayce with his sitter before I head to work. As I sit behind my desk at the PR agency, a wave of guilt washes over me. It’s like I’m constantly playing catch-up, but I’m always behind. On everything.

And then there’s Knox. I miss him. The real him—the man who would pull me into his arms for no reason other than to feel me close. The man who would look at me like I was the only person in the world who mattered.

Now, we’re lucky if we see each other long enough to say goodnight.

I glance at my phone, debating whether to send him a text, but my inbox is already piling up with work emails, and there’s notime to wallow in my feelings. I shove them down, like I always do, and get to work.

* * *

The day flies by in a blur, and by the time I get home, I’m running on fumes. The kids are bathed, fed, and tucked in bed, and I barely manage to clean up the kitchen before dragging myself upstairs.

Knox is already in bed, his back to me, and I slip in beside him, the mattress barely shifting from the weight of my body. I lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, wondering how we got here. How we went from being this passionate, inseparable couple to… roommates.

I turn to look at him, the soft rise and fall of his chest telling me he’s already asleep. I feel a pang in my heart, a longing to reach out and shake him awake. To tell him I miss him. I miss us. But I don’t. I’m too tired. We’re both too tired.

Instead, I roll over and close my eyes, hoping tomorrow will be different. But deep down, I know it won’t be. Not unless something changes.

* * *

KNOX

I stand in the middle of my office, my eyes fixed on the file in front of me, but I’m not seeing a damn thing. Rosie’s face keeps flashing in my mind—tired, distant, like she’s holding the weightof the world on her shoulders. And maybe she is. Maybe we both are.

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