The bell above the door rings, and before you even look up, you know.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Clark’s voice is warm and familiar. He’s standing there, bouquet in hand, his usual spot at the counter already waiting for him. It’s not unusual. He’s here every day, without fail. Rain or shine, slow days or busy ones. He just can’t seem to stay away.

“Figured you could use a little something beautiful on your break,” he says, setting the flowers down like it’s second nature, but the way he looks at you? That’s where the real devotion is. His fingers brush over yours when you reach for them, his touch lingering just a second too long.

You shake your head with a small laugh. “Clark, you don’t have to keep bringing me flowers.”

“I want to,” he counters, easy as breathing. “Besides…” He leans in slightly, voice lower now, just for you. “Can’t stand being away from you for too long.”

The way he says it, like it’s a simple truth, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. It makes your heart skip a beat. And as he settles into his usual seat, watching you like you’re the only thing that matters, you know he’ll be right there, every single day. Just like always, even if it’s a bit inconvenient on the days it does get busy during the shifts.