it was probably the worst flower anyone had ever made.”
Despite everything, a broken laugh escaped me.
“It is.”
“I told him the same thing.”
Adrian almost smiled.
“He gave it to me a few days before he died. He told me that if I made it home and he didn’t, I had to give it to you.”
Adrian’s voice softened.
“He said, ‘I promised her yellow roses. This is the best I can do.’”
I stared at the crooked little flower.
James had made it for me.
During his
