Something shifts in his posture. His lips twitch. "Noted."
He turns toward the door, then pauses with his hand on the knob. "One more thing."
I wait.
"Their fathers don't know anything yet. But eventually they will. And when the time comes, this little arrangement you've built? It either survives scrutiny, or it collapses. Your move, Doctor." He gives me a final stare, then opens the door.
I call out, "Mikhail."
He stops.
"If you hurt her—if you hurt either of them—I won't wait for permission to return the favor."
He gives a nod, as if he respects my threat, then walks out.
I stay where I am for three full breaths, with my heart hammering. Adrenaline sings in my veins. I straighten my cuffs, smooth my shirt, and follow him back to the living room.
Blue looks up the second I appear. Her eyes search my face, anxious yet hopeful.
I give her the smile I keep only for her. "Everything's fine, Bluebird."
She exhales, and her shoulders drop.
Demi pours wine and announces, "The appetizers are done."
Mikhail takes a seat across from me, his posture casual, and raises his glass.
I lift mine in return.
"To more double dates!" Blue gushes, her expression sparkling.
Unable to not be happy since she is, I clink my glass against hers and the others.
Demi tosses her hair over one shoulder and raises her own glass high. "Okay, no one is allowed to be weird tonight. This is a celebration dinner. Blue's finale dress is basically the Met Gala of—" she gestures vaguely, "—whatever fashion people do."
Blue laughs, cheeks bright, and swats at her arm. "Stop. It's not the Met Gala."
"It is," Demi insists. "It's yourmoment. And since I am your best friend, I will be making it about me. Naturally." She leans toward me with a grin. "Red, you're going to be front row with us, right? Like, actual front row. No hiding behind a plant?"
Blue's gaze flicks to mine, and I catch her plea.
My chest tightens. I keep my expression easy. "Of course. Front row."
Her whole body loosens like she's been holding her breath for hours. "You promise?"
"I don't make promises I don't plan on keeping," I tell her, wondering how we're ever going to talk to her parents so they're okay with our situation.
They won't be.
Demi slaps her palm against the counter. "One more toast. To Blue and the finale dress. May there be hundreds of interviews and photos, and everyone finally seeing what I've been screaming about since sophomore year. To my best friend, becoming the hottest, most terrifying, most talented woman alive."
Blue bites her lip, embarrassed and pleased in equal measure.
I tug her into me, proud of her big accomplishment.
Demi tips her glass toward me. "And to Red for—" she squints, pretending to think, "—being…weirdly supportive. Like a scary rich dad who also might kill someone, but in a good way."
Blue snorts.
