Chapter 15 #2
"Great." I move down the hallway and sort fabric for a new bridal line I convinced Mom to explore. I hum, not letting my parents' conversation ruin my mood. The rhythm of work settles into my bones, steady and warm.
My phone buzzes, and I instantly reach for it.
Red: Have water, too.
A grin spreads across my face before I can stop it.
Me: Relax. I'm good. Perfect, even. You should see me.
A long time passes with silence, but instead of spiraling, I tuck my phone into my pocket and return to my fabrics. I'm not going to worry when he's in sessions, writing notes, or doing whatever brilliant things he does instead of replying.
Instead, I cut fabric, pin seams, and guide an assistant through a redesign. The entire time, my chest feels light, as if invisible pressure lifted overnight. I'm on top of my game, and my heart keeps swelling bigger.
Red kissed me.
Mom checks on me from time to time. I act like she's not there, continuing to kick ass at work.
Nothing can touch me today. Every thought of kissing Red, every memory of his hands on me, and each time I quickly reread the love letter he left me wrap around me like a soft cocoon.
My phone buzzes once.
Red: Proud of you.
It's three words and feels like everything. So absolutely nothing can dim the glow that settles deep in my chest.
I'm finally happy. I found the man I'm going to give everything to, and he wants it as much as I do.
By midday, I'm convinced the universe has finally decided to give me a break.
Every stitch I sew lands exactly where I want it.
All our clients who come in leave smiling.
Each idea that sparks in my head actually makes sense instead of spiraling into noise.
It's like the whole world is operating in perfect alignment, and I know exactly why.
Red kissed me.
The glow in my chest hasn't dimmed once. Around four, I remember his reminder about food and pull out a yogurt cup from the fridge in the breakroom. I dip the spoon in, then stick my tongue on the pink cream and snap a selfie.
Me: Look at me eating AGAIN. Do I get a gold star?
I stare at the screen, waiting. After five minutes, I decide he's probably in another session.
I imagine his intense, focused body language while someone else talks to him. My heart races faster. The thought shouldn't make me jealous, but it does.
He's mine. No one else's, I remind myself, then return to humming while I line the hem of a princess-style wedding dress. I angle the skirt against the light and force myself not to spiral.
The memory of him holding my hand while I fell asleep quiets whatever tiny flicker of insecurity tries to tug at me. I thread the needle again and keep working, humming a tune that comes from nowhere.
Thirty minutes later, my phone buzzes.
My heart leaps.
Red: Good. Make sure you eat a good dinner tonight, too. And take breaks so you don't overwork yourself.
The corners of my mouth pull up before I can stop them. I reread the message three times, savoring every word. It's clinical, professional, and so Red.
He loves me so much!
He's still worried, trying to wrap his protectiveness around me.
Me: You worry too much. I'm fine. Actually better than fine. :)
Ten seconds later, I send another text.
Me: You'd be proud of me today. I'm getting so much done.
There's no immediate response, but once again, I tell myself it's okay. He'll write back when he can.
The next client fitting goes just as smoothly. She twirls in the mirror, gasping at how well the dress hugs her waist, and throws her arms around me like I've saved her entire wedding.
Moments like this used to exhaust me. Today, they energize me. I hug her back, imagining a minister saying, "You may kiss your bride," and Red claiming me in front of our friends and families with a kiss so wicked, it should be criminal.
When the fitting ends, I check my phone again. It's after five, but he hasn't responded.
Surely he's out of his last appointment by now?
He's a therapist. People need him.
I need him.
Don't freak out.
Me: Are you still at work?
I walk to the cutting table and start sketching new neckline ideas for the linen collection. I've avoided it all week, but suddenly, the ideas flow freely.
My phone buzzes mid-sketch.
My heart jumps.
Red: Glad you're having a good day. Drink a lot of water tonight.
I laugh, soft and giddy, and take a sip from the bottle on my desk to make him proud. I snap another photo of the water bottle raised in a mock toast and send it.
Me: Hydration achieved.
He doesn't respond. But this time, I don't mind. The high from his last message still warms my skin.
Mom passes by, stopping long enough to watch me draw. She comments, "You're very focused today."
"I'm working," I reply, way too cheerfully.
"You're humming."
"I am?"
She nods slowly. "It's good to see you like this."
Dad appears in the doorway behind her, crossing his arms. "Good day, Blue?"
I push my chair back and tilt my head. "Both of you can stop worrying. And why are you here again?" I ask Dad.
"Checking on my two girls," he says.
I smile. "You can stop worrying."
He nods. "Okay. Why don't your mom and I give you a ride home?"
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.