Grace's POV.
"What about this one, mommy?"
Tate ran toward me, carefully carrying a single flower in his hand.
He stopped only an inch or so away from me, his little chest rising and falling rapidly with excited breath.
I leaned down, taking the flower from him to examine it.
It was a beautiful, delicate yellow flower with a faint, sweet smell.
"It's perfect, baby. I think it'll look great with all the others."
He watched me intently as I added it to the thick bouquette that I was holding in my other hand.
"Do you think she'll like it?"
"I think she's going to love it, baby. And, you know what else?"
His eyes widened.
"What, mommy?"
I pinched his little nose.
"I bet that it's going to be her favorite present."
He scrunched up his nose, slightly pulling away from me.
"Really?
