“Do you ever let people answer their own questions?” I mutter, but my lips can’t stop pulling into a smile. “Yes. In the lab. Two times, technically. Well, two and a half. I kissed him on the cheek Monday, and today he—” I flail for an appropriate verb, like there’s one in the English language that covers thirty-four years of inexperience, pure logic, and the wildest surge of courage I’ve ever seen. “He just went for it. Full tilt. It was kind of…” I glance at my own flushed reflection, searching for the right description. “Intense. But good. Really, really good.”
“Full tilt,” Serena repeats, savoring the words. “I need more details. Scale of one to ten, how good are we talking?”
“I’m not rating it.”
“Why not? I rate all of Caleb’s kisses. He’s currently averaging an 8.7, which he claims is statistically impossible given the sample size, but I stand by my methodology.”
“Your methodology is unhinged,” Layla says. “But also, Audrey—was there tongue?”
“Oh my god.” I cover my face with my hands. “Can we not do this in the work bathroom?”
“We absolutely can and will.” Serena hops up onto the counter beside me. “This is the most exciting thing that’s happened since Layla got engaged. I’ve been waiting for you two to figure your shit out formonths.”
“It hasn’t been that bad.”
“Audrey, we spent almost a whole year listening to you talk about him while watching you two orbit each other like sexually frustrated satellites.” She kicks her feet against the cabinet. “Do you know how painful that’s been?”
Layla nods in agreement. “Every time you’d finish each other’s sentences in meetings, I wanted to scream ‘JUST KISSALREADY’ but Bennett said that would be ‘inappropriate’ and ‘disruptive to the workflow.’”
“Bennett was right,” I say.
“Bennett is a killjoy,” Serena says as she slides off the bench. “But that’s beside the point.” She grabs my arm. “The point is: you kissed Logan. Logan kissed you. In the lab. Before a very important meeting. Which means you two were so overcome with passion that you couldn’t even wait until?—”
“It wasn’t like that,” I interrupt, though my face is burning. “It was... he told me something. Something important. Something that explained why he rejected me before I left for Sweden.”
Layla’s expression shifts from teasing to serious. “What did he tell you?”
I hesitate. This is the line I can’t cross—Logan’s secret isn’t mine to share. And since I never told them specifically about the face-palm incident outside of saying, ‘I tried to make a move and he rejected me,’ they don’t need more than, “It just wasn’t what I thought. He wasn’t rejecting me. He was just... unsure. And once I understood, everything made sense.”
Serena’s face softens. “That’s actually really sweet.”
“It is.” I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “He’s sweet. Under all the awkwardness and the statistics and the complete inability to read the room, he’s genuinely, ridiculously sweet.”
“You’ve got it bad,” Layla observes.
“I’ve had it bad since the first acquisition meeting. This isn’t new information.”
“No, but this—” She gestures at my face. “This is different. This is hope. You look like someone who actually believes it might work out.”
Do I? I turn back to the mirror, studying my reflection. Flushed cheeks, bright eyes, kiss-swollen lips. I look likesomeone who just had her entire worldview rearranged in the best possible way.
I also look like someone who’s not wearing any armor. No Swedish blonde perfection. No carefully constructed distance. Just... me. The real version. The one I’ve been hiding since I got back.
It’s terrifying. But also, maybe, a little like relief.
“I think it might,” I admit quietly. “Work out, I mean. For the first time since I ran to Sweden, I actually think?—”
The bathroom door swings open.
Jenna strides in, tablet in hand, all business. She stops short when she sees the three of us clustered by the sinks.
“Oh.” She blinks. “I was looking for you. Bennett wants to reconvene to finalize the testing schedule.” Her eyes sweep over us—Serena perched on the counter, Layla standing in the middle of the floor, me looking like I’ve been crying or laughing or possibly both. “Is everything... all right?”
“Everything’s great,” Serena says, a little too brightly. “Just having a girl chat.”
Jenna’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers behind her eyes. “A girl chat. In the bathroom. During a critical project meeting.”
“The best conversations happen in women’s bathrooms,” Layla offers. “It’s science.”
