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Summary
“Now you're even with Rose,” Shane said, quiet amusement seeped in every single part of his tone. “I got her roses. Roses for Rose. I got you lilies. Lilies for Lily.”
“Shane Hollander, you are the asshole between us,” Ilya grumbled. He sat at his kitchen table, dreamily admiring the flowers, resting his chin on his upturned hand.
OR
Ilya is salty about Shane buying Rose flowers. Shane does something about it.
