She ground her teeth as she smiled. “Ophelia.”
“Ophelia,” he purred, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “A pleasure.”
Despite everything, she blushed. She had to shake him off or else lose her backbone. She led him past the rows of tables and the hood vents, past the employee lounge and the heavy equipment storage. They stepped into the room that held their small-scale hydroponic farm, and she shut the door behind them, plunging them into darkness.
“Are you insane?” she hissed.
“Perhaps. It is a human standard, so I cannot say if it applies to me.” He clasped his hands behind his back, wandering deeper into the room. “This is where you work?”
She smoothed her hair back, suddenly uncertain. What would he think of it? Logan had never bothered to visit her at work. It had been clear that he found her job silly, so she guessed a visit would have been beneath him. Would Sam find her career choice similarly lacking?
“Yes,” she said.
The flowers in the room, deprived of light, began to glow softly. They were dim neon shades of blue and green. Sam brushed his fingers over the petals of a green rose.
“These are pretty.”
She smiled. “Yeah, I think so, too.”
“So, this is what you do. You make flowers glow.”
The rose bounced on its stem as he released it.
Her throat tightened with uncertainty. With less conviction, she said, “Yes.”
“That’s a noble endeavor.” He was lit from beneath his chin in dim blue light as he walked down the aisle.
Relief made her blow out a breath. “You really think so?”
“Yes. Flowers are part of human communication. They show affection, sympathy, concern, longing… There is a long and storied history between humanity and their flowers.”
“That’s… how I feel, too,” she said, stunned. “I know I’m not changing the world, but… I’m making people smile. That means something in a world like this. Doesn’t it?”
“Yes. It does.” He smiled at her and stepped closer, winding his arms around her as she wriggled and made sounds of protest. “Hush. The others will hear you.”
She stopped, mortified by the thought. “We can’t do this. I’m at work.”
“Do what?” he asked, resting his chin atop her head.
“This!”
“You’re stressed,” he said, immune to her annoyance. “I am helping.”
She sighed, standing limply in his grip. After a moment, she couldn’t deny that it was working. Some of the stress melted out of her shoulders. She wound her arms around his waist and sank her weight into him.
“There,” he said approvingly, rubbing circles over her back. “Doesn’t that feel better?”
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“Youshould not have come,” he countered. “I told you I did not want to be parted from you.”
She huffed. “We can’t be together all the time.”
“Why not?”
His obstinacy made her laugh. “Because! Everyone has to split up sometimes.”
“No.”
