Me: I like it when you boss me around.
Three dots appear, then disappear, then appear again.
My stomach flips.
Red: I'm just making sure you're okay.
The words melt through me like honey.
He's still worried about me.
I finish my sandwich to please him, sip the smoothie until it's half gone, and step into the design studio with a bounce in my step I haven't felt in months.
Mom's head pops up from behind a display of fabric swatches. Her eyes widen subtly, and she looks me over like she's trying to solve some complicated puzzle.
"I've been calling you," she says.
"Sorry. I forgot to set my alarm and overslept," I offer, passing her and setting my purse on the counter.
She studies me. "You look like you actually slept."
I shrug, trying for nonchalance but failing miserably. I'm too excited about Red. I chirp, "Turns out sleep is useful."
She gives me a relieved but cautious expression.
I head toward the back office. Before I reach it, my father steps out. His brows crease.
Shit.
"Hey, Dad."
He pulls me in for a hug, then peers closer. "You look rested."
I roll my eyes. "I am. Let me guess. Mom made you worry?"
"You went too long without sleep," Mom reinforces behind me.
Dad studies my face. "Blue, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," I answer easily, brushing past him to grab the order clipboard. "Just busy. I have a lot of tasks to catch up on."
He exchanges a look with my mother. It's the kind of silent, parental communication that used to make me furious, but today, I'm too buoyant to care.
Dad clears his throat. "Your mother said you had a rough few days."
"It wasn't anything special," I lie, not wanting to keep this conversation alive.
Dad says, "Blue?—"
"I slept. I'm fine," I reiterate.
Both their eyebrows shoot up.
"And I ate breakfast," I add, lifting my smoothie as evidence.
Mom's smile softens.
Dad's shoulders ease a fraction.
