A bundle of lavender and baby’s breath, the biggest Justin had ever seen, rested on the pillow, tied with twine, like the little bundle of buds Wes had bought him in Paris. His breath hitched, and he turned to Wes, gasping. Wes pulled a single red rose from behind his back. He twirled it in his fingers and smiled. “Tu es mon plus grand amour.” You are the love of my life.
