Page 76 of Neap & Spring

The tension in her face gives way to something gentler before she turns back to the laptop and moves the cursor to the send button. She waits there for another second.

I hold my breath.

“Okay,” she breathes. “Okay. I’m doing it.”

“Do it.”

She clicks quickly, the noise echoing in the small office, and the email whooshes away with the sound that means it’s gone and out of our hands and on its way to three men who hold my future in their hands.

Vivienne slumps back in the chair, both hands coming up to cover her face.

“That was awful,” she says, muffled behind her palms.

“It’s done.”

“It’s done.”

“We did it.”

“We did it.” She drops her hands and looks at me. “In ten days. We put together a full, comprehensive business plan in ten days.”

“You put together a business plan in ten days. I just provided poorly put-together spreadsheets and complained about things.”

“You did more than that.”

“I made coffee.”

“You trusted me.” She says it without fuss, but it lingers between us. “Even when you didn’t agree with my suggestions and I couldn’t even explain my reasoning — you trusted me.”

My next breath comes a little uneven.

She’s right. I did trust her. Even when I was still hurt about her leaving and I didn’t understand her decisions. Even when every instinct told me to keep my distance and lock my heart away.

I trusted her anyway.

Somewhere deep down, past all the anger and confusion and hurt, I still know her. And I still believe in her.

I think I always will.

“Yeah,” I swallow. “I did.”

We sit there for a second, just looking at each other with soft smiles. The office is quiet. The restaurant beyond is quiet. It feels like we’re the only two people in the world.

Like if I leaned forward just a little bit, if I closed this distance between us —

Then Vivienne’s stomach growls.

Loudly.

And the moment breaks.

She presses a hand to it, laughing. “That was embarrassing.”

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“I had coffee this morning.”

“Coffee isn’t food.”