Page 72 of Red Flag, Green Light

“He’s the Tamaki, you said. Too bright. Too blond.”

Her head tilts so she can meet my eyes. “Which is why I want to know if he’s a fan of blackmail. Doesn’t seem like he would be, but he loves mail so much…”

“Often,blackmailisn’t even mail.”

“True. Yet Brian is mysterious and unpredictable.” She snuggles. “I will need you to text him this burning question, or I might be up all night thinking about it. And then, in themorning, I’ll have to message him myself. We might fall in love. I am, after all, only a girl. Highly susceptible to the charms of a mailroom uniform.”

Huffing, I retrieve my phone and grumble, “As if you don’t have a personality.”

“I’m gleaning your mischief.”

“Me?Mischievous?Never.”

Mars: Blackmail, yay or nay?

Mars: Also, I will need you to stop stealing all the world’s women. Leave some for the rest of us. Please.

“He might not reply for hours. Lots of mail to sort, you know.”

Disparaged, Ceres sighs and bemoans. “I suppose I’ll have to think about him for hours, then.”

“You will do no such thing.”

She draws her free hand to her forehead. “Woe and sorrow. My fair Brian.”

Blessedly, it is at this moment that my phone buzzes.

Brian: I’m not stealing all the world’s women. Only Amelia.

Brian: Also, blackmail isn’t even mail.

“Blackmail isn’t even mail. Told you.”

Ceres gags and wrinkles her nose. “Ew. You know your friend so well. How sickeningly sweet of you. You’re practically buttercream frosting.”

“You like buttercream frosting.” My heart skips a beat. “Right?”

Unbidden, lips touch my cheek, and a dash of moisture follows as Ceres flicks her tongue out against me. “Mm. Yeah.” She buries her face in the crook of my neck. “Guess I do.”

Chapter Twenty

Desperate for someone who doesn’t sayencore.

Ceres

“Sometimes, it’s hard to be vulnerable and to take accountability for the part we played in a conflict we don’t believe we’re at fault for, but when people get hurt, they can’t always see our intentions. If you still want the relationship, it’s up to you to try and mend it, and to apologize, and to express that you don’t always have all the answers where it concerns knowing how to communicate your love. Because that’s what matters. It’s not about right or wrong or blame. It’s about love. Even if things go horribly, personally I’d never regret trying to tell someone that I love them.”

The woman in front of me—who’s been estranged from her daughter since a falling out several years ago—sniffles, and nods, andhugs me. As though I gave any indication I wanted to be touched.

Or. Like. Hear anything about how her daughter hasn’t called her for years.

“You’re right,” she whispers. “I love her. I don’t want to lose her. And I can take the first step, even if she won’t.” Teary-eyed, she pulls back and offers me a fragile smile.

I return the expression. “Love meets others where they’re at. Regardless of the outcome, choose the kind thing. It’ll mean something.”

The woman wipes her eyes with her forefingers and battles to compose herself. “Thank you.” She blows out a breath.“Gracious. Where were we before I got all emotional?”

Where indeed… “I was hoping that you’d be willing to set up a stall at the Flag Day festival I’m helping coordinate with my benefactor.” I offer her a handy-dandy pamphlet I put together. “Shops all over Bandera will be represented. It’s taking place at the fairgrounds on June 14th, and everything you need to know is compiled on the website listed here or accessible via QR code here.” I point and point, a true professional at work.

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