Langston stops mid-step, brows pulling together as he reaches for the folder Jack is holding. “What’s ready?”
“Sabrina’s office.”
I blink.
Once.
Twice.
“What?” I say at the same time Langston opens the folder.
Jack looks between us, clearly enjoying this. “You’ve been out since Friday. We finished it yesterday afternoon.”
Myheart stutters.
I turn to Langston. “You knew about this?”
He doesn’t answer right away—just looks at me with that expression I’m starting to recognize. The one he gets when he’s done something quietly, deliberately, without needing credit.
“I wanted it finished before we came back,” he says simply.
Jack gestures down the hall. “You want to see it?”
I nod, suddenly afraid to speak.
The office is right next to Langston’s—close enough to feel connected, separate enough to feel like my own. The door opens to light and warmth and space that feels intentional in a way I didn’t know how to ask for.
There’s a desk big enough to spread out my plans. Shelving already filled with binders labeled in neat handwriting. A whiteboard mounted on the wall with Ideas written across the top.
And a window.
Big. Bright. Open.
I step inside slowly, like if I move too fast it might disappear.
“Oh,” I breathe.
Langston watches me from the doorway, arms crossed loosely, eyes fixed on my face instead of the room.
“This is…” I swallow.
“It’s yours,” he says. “Every inch of it.”
I turn back to him, emotion pressing tight against my ribs. “When didyou—”
Jack clears his throat, suddenly very interested in his tablet. “I’ll, uh… give you two a minute.”
The door clicks shut behind him.
I stand there, surrounded by possibility, and for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m borrowing space.
I feel like I belong in it.
I look at Langston again, and he’s smiling—not smug, not proud of himself.
“I thought I would be in your office forever.” I laugh, because for a while there I honestly thought Langston was never going to let me leave his office.
He watches me with that slow, knowing smile—the one that always makes my stomach flip—then steps past me toward the wall that separates our spaces.
