There were plenty of empty spots in the parking lot. William parked his car and reached over to the passenger seat to grab the custom-made cake.
It was a gorgeous pink butterfly cake—tall, with soft pink waves layered around it, thin and delicate, almost sheer, with golden dust sprinkled along the edges.
It looked like tender petals or the fragile wings of a butterfly.
Holding the cake, William got out of the car, glanced at his watch.
He was half an hour early. Too early.
If he went up now, he'd probably just annoy her again.
So he thought about it for a second, rested the cake on the car hood, then leaned against the door and took a cigarette pack from his pocket.
He pulled one out halfway, paused, then shoved it back and tossed the whole pack through the window in
