“Yes, because between the two of us, I’m the online shopping enthusiast,” Cooper muttered as he exchanged the box for the bowl of breakfast Park handed him, then watched as he popped a claw and made quick work of the tape, and pulled off the top layer of packing paper. Park paused.

“What?” Cooper asked. “What is it?” He leaned closer.

The box was lined with dark green tissue paper and full to the brim with roses. Just the heads, though. All their stems had been clipped. They were all a pretty sort of pinkish-orange color and tightly closed, though that probably had something to do with how they’d been cut.

Cooper pulled one out, manipulating it in his fingers. There wasn’t even the barest hint of a stem left below the bud. Strange. And a bit wasteful. He doubted they’d live longer than a day like this. Though he supposed all cut flowers were doomed in that regard, sooner or later.

Digging in the pile, Park found a small notecard and read it out loud, “To the moon and back again. From your family?”

Cooper snorted. “Two dozen customized roses and an embossed card? What kind of Grey Poupon people do you think we are?” Speaking of... “What about your family? They’re fancy like that,” he suggested. Odd enough, too, but he left that bit implied.

Park shook his head, scooping out a few buds. “I feel like they would have mentioned it.” He rolled the flowers between his fingers, dislodging a few petals that twirled prettily onto the counter. Coral. That’s what color the roses were, Cooper realized. Looked like all those hours spent on wedding blogs weren’t a complete waste of time.

“I emailed my—Daisy. A couple of weeks ago,” Park said, still looking at the flowers.

Cooper tried not to look surprised. Neither of them had seen or heard from Park’s mother, Daisy Boudillion, since she’d saved Cooper’s life in Cape Breton that February, dropped Park’s wounded grandmother off at the hospital and promptly disappeared.

“I told her we’d got this place and were getting married. Just in case she wanted to”—Park shrugged—”I don’t know, come visit or something. She hasn’t written back yet,” he said hastily. “But maybe she sent this instead.”