Ava
Before I could even recover from the shock of Caspian's kiss, I noticed movement from the side of the stage.
Two tall men in sharp black suits — the kind you only see in high-profile events or cheesy romance movies — walked toward me, each carrying an enormous bouquet of red and white roses.
The crowd gasped and laughed, the announcer chuckling into the microphone.
"For the best new poet... and obviously, someone’s very dedicated husband," she said with a wink, and the audience burst into applause again.
My jaw dropped as the men stopped right in front of me, bowed slightly, and handed me the flowers. Nestled between the petals was a little card.
From Caspian. Always.
I turned to look at him, tears blurring my vision again. He just shrugged in that Caspian way — smug, infuriatin
