Page 83 of True Colors

“You’re worried about the board meeting,” she remarks when we’re having breakfast at her place.

Finn made eggs Benedict before he went for his shift. That man can seriously cook. We’ve become friends in a way since Anouk and I spend time both at her place and mine.

Her equation with Finn is unique. They connect at many levels. Their past but also their present, and I know their futures will always be entwined. It’s not a possessive relationship, but one where they’re each other’s two a.m. phone call, no questions asked.

“Yeah, I am,” I admit. “Dad will be there and…my Godfather, Martin. It’s…a test.”

She puts a hand on mine. “You’ll be fine.”

She says it with such confidence that it makes me feel better. If someone as good as Anouk thinks I can make it, then I probably can, right?

She leans back and studies me thoughtfully. “But tell me what exactly are you nervous about?” she asks, catching me off guard.

She’s intuitive about me, and maybe that’s why she’s able to ask questions that aren’t easy for me to answer.

I think about it for a moment. “Jacob Grant doesn’t miss things. If there’s anything even a little off, he’ll know. Martin⁠—”

“The CEO of Novagene Pharmaceuticals?”

“Yeah.” I nod, releasing a long breath. “He can dismantle a sloppy argument with a raised eyebrow and about five words.”

She taps her fingers against the table, thinking. “How about we do some dry runs, invite colleagues who don’t know the project, and let them poke holes?”

“That’s a damn good idea, my starling.” I kiss her softly, unaware that this is what will unravel us.

As Anouk suggested, we start doing dry runs.

First, it’s just us, and then we ask others to join—those who have had only a passing contact with the project.

I have our chief marketing officer, Gabby, and head of sales, Lowell, sit in as our audience for our last dry run. The board presentation is within a week, and I am getting jumpy by the minute.

Anouk’s stutter is not bad when it’s just us, but put some strangers in there, and she fumbles—a lot.

I worry about how my father will treat her. He’s not going to tolerate having to wait for her to finish her thoughts and sentences. That thought makes me even more nervous.

Erin presents her part and answers the questions competently. Vijay follows. But the core of the presentation belongs to Anouk. The model is hers.

She stands at the front of the room, making a valiant effort to hide her nervousness.

She looks good in a cream and blue wrap-around dress. Hair pulled back. Scarf in place.

She takes a breath before she starts.

“The m-model evaluates supplier v-variance across th-three t-tiers,” she begins.

That damn stutter. Not severe, but present.

I watch the room.

No eye-rolling. No smirks. That alone feels like progress.

But there are questioning looks. Is this who you want to present to the President and CEO of the group?

She moves smoothly enough through the first few slides, grounding herself in the data. Then she hits a transition—one she hasn’t practiced enough—and her words tangle.

“Th-the s-sensitivity a-analysis⁠—”

She stops. It’s for a long, interminable second.