"Shh. It's okay. Everything will be okay," I say, even though I'm not sure if it will.
"What time is it?" she asks.
"A little after 6:30."
She inhales deeply, her breath catching, and sits up straight. "You'd better get ready for work."
"I'm going to stay home with you today."
She shakes her head. "No. I'm fine. Go to work."
"Bluebird—"
"I'm fine. You have clients depending on you," she states.
I assess her closer, then argue, "I don't want you on your own. I don't think you should go into work today either."
"Agree, but I'll be fine on my own," she claims.
"I don't want you on your own."
She takes several breaths, then rises, going out to the living room.
I follow.
She picks up her phone, taps the screen, and holds it to her ear. A moment passes, and she states, "Demi, can you come over to Red's today? He needs to go to work, and I'm a bit...fragile." She closes her eyes and scrunches her forehead.
I step forward and put my hand on her biceps.
She opens her eyes. "Thanks." She tosses her phone on the couch. "Done. You can go to work now."
"I'm okay staying."
"I know you are, and I love you more for it, but I'm not going to be the reason your business goes down. Demi will stay with me. I'll be fine."
I stare at her.
"I'll be safe, Red. Please. Go to work."
I sigh and press my lips to her temple. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
I cave. "Okay. I'll go to work."
She pulls back, glassy eyes swollen and searching. "Are you mad I told them?"
My chest tightens. I assure, "No. I'm only worried about you."
She wraps her arms around me, hugs me hard, and we stay like that for several minutes. She finally retreats and reorders, "Get ready."
I smile and give her a tiny salute. "Okay, boss."
A tiny laugh comes out of her. She slaps me on the ass and brushes past me into the kitchen.
I get ready fast, almost as if I move quickly enough, I can outrun the weight sitting in my chest. I shower without really feeling the water, shave on autopilot, and pull on clothes that feel wrong on my body. My shirt is too crisp, too normal for the kind of night we just survived. Every movement is efficient, controlled, disciplined. It's the version of me that exists when I don't have the luxury of falling apart.
Blue hovers in the doorway while I button my shirt. She's quieter now, composed in that fragile way that scares me more than tears. Her eyes track me constantly, like she's memorizing my outline in case I don't come back.
