I shake my head. "I want to finish this."
"You can tomorrow," Mom suggests.
"It's okay. I'd rather get it done today," I claim.
They study me.
"I'm fine. Let me finish my work so I can get home at a decent hour," I demand in a light tone.
Dad breaks first. He steps forward, kisses me on the head, and looks at the drawings. He teases, "Next fashion trend, straight from Blue Ivanov."
Laughing, I beam. "Exactly."
"Don't work too late," he adds, then squeezes my shoulder. He turns to Mom. "Ready, printsessa?"
She nods, and they disappear.
I pick up my phone.
Me: I just realized today was the first morning in months I didn't wake up panicking. Thank you. For last night. For everything. You're the only person on Earth who has the ability to help me.
Too much time passes. I fight texting Red again, then press the phone to my chest and close my eyes. I sink back into the memories of our kisses.
When my heart returns to normal, I place my phone back on the desk and work for another hour until I'm happy with the designs. Then I realize, it's super quiet.
I take a deep breath and stare at my phone. I'm not spiraling. I'm stable. Red will be proud when I tell him everything at our next session.
And nothing will ever touch the happiness blooming in my chest. Not today. Not after the night we had.
Nothing will ever come between us. This is just the beginning of Blue and Red.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Red
The hallway lights switch to night mode, signaling that I've stayed at the office much later than I should have. The soft, dim strip along the floor should be calming, yet it makes the office feel abandoned, like I missed a signal everyone else understood hours ago.
My computer hums quietly behind me, the last open chart minimized but not closed. It's been like that for over an hour, while I stared at the same sentence, rewriting it without changing a single word.
Objective language.
Neutral tone.
Clinical distance.
The rules I've lived by for years suddenly feel like they're written in a language I can't quite translate anymore. Every time I attempt to analyze something, Blue's face haunts me.
I sigh, shut the file, and my jaw tightens to the point it hurts. I grab my coat, turn off the lights, lock the door, and put my badge clip in my briefcase.
The elevator ride feels longer than normal, even though it doesn't have any stops. My reflection stares back at me in the mirrored wall, and all I see is a failed man.
I kissed her.
I scowl at myself, hating that I did it and repulsed that I can't stop thinking about it. And it's not the act of it I can't get out of my mind. It's the way she leaned in instead of away, the way my hand tightened like instinct, not thought, and the way stopping felt like tearing something loose instead of correcting a mistake.
I exhale sharply as the doors open, then make my way into the night.
Outside, the city is quiet, intimate almost. Streetlights glow, a few cars pass, and nothing is abnormal except me. I button my coat, put my hands in my pockets, and remind myself I did everything rightafterward.
