July was over and Tristan never felt more at peace. Despite what he'd said, he got too attached. The man couldn't help it. Dahlia Garcia had an unexplainable warmth and safety to her. She could make the saddest person content with life just by a few words. She could brighten the world with a look. That's why Tristan couldn't help himself on the first of August.

Standing on a chair, Dahlia's arms reached out for something until she heard her phone ring. Her brows furrowed when she saw Tristan's name flash on the screen.

"Good evening, Tristan."

"Dahlia! Good evening to you!"

"Is everything all right?" she felt a small grin forming on her lips upon hearing his thrilled greeting.

"Oh yes, perfectly fine," a car honked somewhere on Tristan's end.

"Are you driving?"

"What? Oh, that doesn't matter," Dahlia was about to argue that it does indeed matter before Tristan continued, "I made those churros you told me about."

"And how were they?"

"I haven't tasted them yet."

"Afraid they're poisonous?"

Tristan could practically see her playful simper, "Ha ha, Miss Manager. That's not why I called you."

"Whatever's the reason then?"

"I underestimated how many churros the batter would make and now I have A LOT of churros." Lie. Tristan knew exactly how much flour he needed when he was at the grocery store. How much sugar and how much cinnamon. But he also knew that it was Dahlia's birthday.

"More churros for you to eat then."

"Yes, but I was thinking I'd bring them over and we'd eat them together. Plus, you did give me the recipe, so you must try it."

"And this couldn't wait until we meet at work?"

Tristan faked a gasp, "What would people think, Ms. Garcia? That I'm bribing my boss with churros?"

"Oh, of course," Dahlia played along, "They'd think we're terrible people."

"Is that a yes?"

Dahlia looked at the cupboard, "I'm a bit preoccupied right now." Tristan thought she was home. Well, he found that out about an hour ago, so perhaps she's out now?

"Oh."

"You sound very disappointed."

"Well, you see, I may or may not be at Rosemont already."

"Tristan!" Dahlia scurried to the window, looking at the street below. Sure enough, Tristan Antonov was standing there with a large box. He wasn't kidding when he said he'd made a lot. "You realize you're supposed to ask before coming, right?"

"It's not every day a woman rejects Tristan Antonov and dessert," he looked up giving her a goofy beam.

That earned a small chuckle. the truth was she didn't want to be alone either. Cano was giving her a hard time and Taffy was tired and life wasn't looking good. "All right, I'll buzz you in."

"Thank you, mademoiselle. See you in a minute."

"See you," she said before closing the call. Smiling to herself, she shook her head at his childishness. Then she remembered what she was doing and got back on the chair. "Cano, come here," she called out, "Stop giving me a hard time."

"I've got a delivery for a very beautiful woman with even more beautiful eyes," a muffled voice stated from across the door.

Dahlia opened the door. The smell of coffee greeted her, "Thank you for the compliments, delivery man," she gestured for him to enter, "You seem to be in a great mood."

"Always am when I'm with you," he thought but he couldn't bring himself to say that. "My pleasure. Is your bird being a pain?"

"He injured his wing last Friday and decided that getting on top of the cupboard was a good idea. Now he can't come down."

"How'd he get up?" Tristan put down the box and two cups of coffee on her table before joining her in the kitchen. Dahlia could make out little crystals of cinnamon and sugar in his hair.

"I think he climbed up an open cupboard. I tried leaving it open for him, but he still can't get down."

"Tristan is here to save the day," he smirked, removing his shoes before getting on the chair Dahlia was using.

"You know we're the same height, right?"

"Are we? I feel like you're somewhat shorter," Tristan reached out his hand over the cupboard trying to reach Cano who squawked and stepped out of reach.

"Do you, now?"

"Yes- Ouch!" he quickly pulled his hand away, "How does your bird still not accept me?! I say we leave him and eat my lovely churros."

Dahlia folded her arms and gave him a side-eye.

"Fine, fine," he pushed the chair aside, "Stand on my shoulders."

"Are you sure you can hold me?"

"Of course I am."

"If I fall and get injured, I'm suing you," Dahlia said, getting on the chair before putting one of her feet on his shoulder.

"I believe that won't be necessary, Cano will most likely murder me if I injure you."

Dahlia put her other leg on Tristan's shoulder, steadying herself by holding onto the cupboard. Tristan held her legs securely. He didn't want to have entered the building with churros and exited with a broken Dahlia.

"There you are!" She reached out to her parrot and gently scooped it.

"Got him?"

"Yes."

Tristan carefully put her down, "No injuries, Ms. Garcia. As promised."

She shook her head as she got on her feet, parrot in hand. After putting it safely in its cage, she sat down with Tristan at the coffee table. The man opened the box causing the smell of freshly baked goods and sugar to pervade the apartment.

"Ta-da!" he looked like a child proud of a drawing he made.

"They smell lovely."

"Thank you."

"Where's Taffy? Shouldn't she be here trying to gulp down these churros?"

"She's tired," Dahlia gave a weary sigh, "Old age is finally getting to her."

Tristan, against his better judgment, put a comforting hand on her shoulder, "It'll be ok."

"It will, eventually."

"Are you really going to eat my churros with such a long face?"

"You've never even seen me frown."

"Fair, you've always got the most bewitching smile."

"Stop talking and give me a churro."

"Milady," he got down on one knee bowing his head before presenting the churro.

"Mmm, they're amazing. No, don't get up," she took another churro and accoladed him as if he was a knight, "You may rise, Great Churro Chef."

"You really like them?"

"Well, my mother still makes them better but they're all right. Could do with a little less salt."

"What? I didn't oh," he smiled when she let out a little chuckle, "Very funny," he sassed but laughed all the same.

"Might have to meet Mrs. Garcia," he teased once they stopped laughing, "So I can take some pointers."

"I might take you up on that offer, but she will ask if we're dating."

"It doesn't seem like a bad idea."

"What?"

"Dating. Dating you."

"It is a bad idea."

"No, it's not."

"I don't date anyway, it's pointless at this age."

"The world doesn't care about age anymore, Dahlia."

"I do. People start a relationship all excited only to spend years together then divorce after a few months of marriage."

"I've never gotten married before but it doesn't always end that way."

"It ended that way once for me. I don't want to repeat that."

"So you just give up on love?" Tristan didn't know why he was telling her that. It's not like he himself enjoyed falling in love and yet something pushed him to say those words.

"I didn't say that. I'm just taking my time. I don't need a label. None of that girlfriend, boyfriend stuff. If there's trust and respect and love it'll just work out."

"Then what? You get married straight away?"

She shrugged, "Maybe? It's different but it's much more worthwhile to be called a wife than a girlfriend. Or maybe it's just my old age," she added with a chortle.

"No, no I get what you mean," Tristan had to enter a fake marriage once for a mission. It felt different, being called husband. He could only imagine how it would feel like to marry someone he loved. "Speaking of age. A little bird told me it was your birthday." He pulled out a gift bag.

"You didn't have to."

"Yes, I did," he handed it to her, "Open it."

She carefully took the irregular item covered in a sea-patterned gift wrap. Tristan had to hold in a giggle at the look of confusion on her face.

"Are these..?"

"Bird diapers, yes. I heard you saying that Cano ruined the old ones."

"I appreciate them but I don't think he will," she chuckled as she put them aside. They both sat in anticipation as she took out the second gift. It was a red, velvet box. Dahlia opened it cautiously before letting out a little gasp.

It was a necklace. The golden chain wasn't too heavy or elaborate. Tristan didn't think Dahlia would like such a thing. He didn't get it for the price tag. He got it for the centerpiece, the bi-colored sapphire.

"Blue and brown," Dahlia whispered.

"Just like your eyes." When Tristan saw it, he knew he had to get it. He'd had to fix the gemstone's shape before making it into a necklace and he was so excited about it that he wanted to show Dahlia as soon as it was made.

"It's beautiful. Thank you, Tristan."

"You're welcome."

"You really didn't have to."

"You deserve it. You make this easier," he said referring to the mission.

Tristan wondered if this is what paradise would feel like. Safe, tranquil, perfect. Perhaps that's what Dahlia was. Even if he didn't love her, perhaps she was his temporary paradise. Tristan knew he'd go to hell, so why not enjoy his heaven?