Make a coffee

The unfinished edge is still there, but caffeine feels more useful than staring at Cheryl’s folder right now. You head for the kitchen.

Ruby is already at the counter, pouring water into the machine. She glances over when you walk in and something in her expression has shifted. The usual easy, almost sisterly warmth is still present, but there is a new edge underneath it, a quiet boldness that was not there this morning.

“Rough start?” she asks, voice lower than usual. She does not step aside to give you space. Instead she stays close while the coffee brews, close enough that her cycling-toned arm brushes yours.

You reach for a mug. She watches the movement, then lets her eyes drift briefly down your body before coming back to your face.

“You look like you needed that bathroom break,” she says, almost teasing. “Everything okay at home, or is Cheryl already getting under your skin again?”

The question lands softer than it should, and the way she holds your gaze a second too long makes it clear she is not just being polite. Ruby has always been candid with you, but this feels different. More deliberate. More open.