"So, you two decided on an Ombré theme? Wouldn't expect it to be your first choice, but I see the appeal. Plus, around forty thousand should be a reasonable budget considering the other details." I remarked, looking over the rough outline that the pair drew up.

  "Yep, we wanted to splurge on a few things, but luckily, the estimate didn't balloon too much. As for the theme, I mean, winter is the perfect excuse to go for a flashy event, don't you think?" Amanda added, going through a few photos saved on her phone that showcased the colorful motif. Ombré weddings veered from the traditional pallets that consisted of white, brown, maybe a little bit of green, white, some pastel, ivory, and a whole lot of white if you were feeling frisky. The colors common to this theme were gradient-like, blending hues into a spectrum that resembled anything from the evening sky to a questionably bright cocktail you ordered 'cause the name sounded cute.

  Why yes, I'll have some Alien Secretion and Dirty Bong Water, both on the rocks, please.

  "How many attendees are you planning for?" Myla asked, the tidbit not having been listed.

  "Not a lot. We're thinking of something small but cozy, mainly family and a few close friends, but not much more than that." Keith answered.

  "Let's assume around thirty or so people, then?"

  "Yep." Amanda excitedly replied, shoving even more images into my partner's face, "Partly because we wanna splurge on the decor and aesthetics. I mean, look at these ones! I want ours to be front page worthy as well."

  I feel like chasing internet fame should be low on your priorities...

  "That's great, and all. But right now, all we've got is a painter's palette but no canvas. Have you settled on a venue yet?"

  The olive-eyed woman proudly laughed as if she was anticipating the question with a hidden smirk, "I'm sure you've heard of it already, but we're thinking of this quaint little place..." She flicked her finger over the screen a few times, opening up a set of photos and placing it on the table for Myla and me to see. The spot they picked out was a balance of rustic and elegant, lush vines and foliage crawling upon bricked walls of maroon as the interior gave off a warm ambiance even in the still frames where it was bathed with golden lamplight. All things considered, it was austere, with no frills attached, but charming nonetheless.

  Amanda's always been one for interior decorating, so I guess that's why they decided on a place where you can really dress it up as anything. I wonder if that's why we started dating, seeing as I was plain, uninteresting, of questionable intelligence, painfully unfunny, emotional, thoughtless-

  "How about your sponsors? Any people in mind?" Myla cut my flawless assessment off, returning us- err, well, me to the topic.

  "Aside from you two? We haven't really given it much thought yet." The introvert answered with a soft smile that made it clear, even from the beginning, that we were an irreplaceable part of the day to come.

  "Well, at least we were the first to come to mind." I commented, returning our client's expression with one of similar warmth, "Ya'll make me feel just as special as when they put me in the SpEd classes."

  "That would explain a lot." My dear partner turned to me, exasperation augmented by the silent request of returning her earlier worry, which now seemed rather unfounded.

  "That was a joke."

  "Which part?" She asked.

  "The education system making you feel valued." Our spat concluded with a flick to the back of my neck, putting us properly back on track.

  We discussed the rest of the initial details, from the sponsors and entourage to the catering and decor, to get a rough draft into our minds for the event to come. I already had a decent idea of what I had to do, seeing as this was my second time working with Amanda on such an endeavor. And Myla was equipped with more than a few wedding jobs under her repertoire of surveyor odd jobs. Based purely on that, we could both tell the plan was a solid start. It was neat, organized, and radiated a certain charm that only an excited pair of soon-to-be newlyweds could create. It was a map that spoke to Keith's careful attentiveness and Amanda's creative resourcefulness.

  "The logistics are good, and given the three-month timeframe, a smaller event like this should be within reasonable feasibility." I praised, my tone of voice devolving a bit to back when I worked in financial management.

  Ah, I can still recall the wonderfully life-draining bureaucracy vividly. It made me want to stub my head into a wall.

  The pair seemed happy to hear my assurances, Myla adding on a few other comments as my mind ran on a new set of tracks to drive another train of thoughts and doubts.

  An obvious worry was the question of how well things would be once they were well and properly married, but that was still far off enough that I could detach itself from the other pair of concerns bouncing around in my skull.

  I was worried because I wanted to make sure that what I could give them was perfect. Not just my best, but the best. This was it, the moment I was toiling over, the flag on the mountain just below its summit, and the last lap called out by the announcer over the speakers. It was the last step towards completing the promise that fueled my steps and gave me breath.

  And yet here I was, struggling to save face, stumbling along when it began to matter most. I was nervous—terrified even, at the prospect of failing Amanda for a second time—and yet the source of my dread was the very same person I sought to appease. I couldn't smile my way through helping her, but what good was I as a wingman and planner if just being happy for her felt like it induced pins and needles in my chest?

  So, in the end, I really will have to do something selfish in the name of being selfless, huh? What a shitty lick of irony.

  Knowing that I had to make the suggestion more appealing meant I had to hide a few intentions—frame it in a way that wasn't entirely dishonest but made sure to wade the waters with my hands beneath the murky surface.

  "Oh, by the way, I sort of think-thunk a random idea while reading through all of this. D'you mind hearing it out?" I proposed, gathering looks of weary curiosity and intrigued approval from Myla and the couple, respectively.

  I wonder if what I'm about to suggest is as important as I think it is for them or if my self-serving attitude has finally reached its peak.

  "I was wondering if you guys could leave the bulk of the planning to us." The expectant-turned-confused stares turned to each other before returning to me with eyes turned into question marks.

  Yikes, looks that turned out to be a turn for the worse.

  Amanda was the first to speak, cheeks puffed out with a look born of amusement and puzzlement, "I mean, that's more or less the plan, so..?"

  "Well, yeah- Okay, let me rephrase that." I resettled my thoughts, clearing my throat to try again, "I mean, I'm asking if you guys would agree to let us handle the majority or, well, pretty much all of the work so that you guys could spend some more time together away from all of the stress and such. Obviously, we'll still bug you for inputs and run final checks by you, but pretty much just let us have the reins for the most part. is what I'm asking." While not reacted to in immediate disapproval, the reasonable looks of doubt and confusion were quick to reply.

  "For what reason, exactly?" Keith asked.

  "I think it'd be a good way for you two to enjoy each other's company before you fully dive into the big commitment, y'know?" I first answered him, then swapped to Amanda, "You admitted that the decision was abrupt but not hasty, so this marks a good time to slow things down and enjoy each other's company, right? Something I can promise you won't have the same luxury when stressing over planning." Hesitance was anticipated, and indeed, it was what plastered itself on their faces. I mean, why wouldn't it be? When asking for help, you expect to reach a compromise, not earn yourself a vacation. But that was the idea. If given the chance, why not take it? Especially if you could claim it was in service of another good and not out of pleasure.

  I don't know if I'm saying this in preparation for persuading them or if I'm still selling the idea to myself as we speak.

  I needed an agreement—even just one to bounce off of and go from there. I couldn't act desperate or strange about it—just a random idea born of altruism and nothing else. God, I sound like such an ass for saying it like this, but conflicting thoughts call for conflicting intentions call for questionable decisions.

  And to my quiet behests, something of that sort did arrive, "Well, I can kind of see where you're coming from. I don't entirely mind the planning aspect—part of me was looking forward to it, actually." The introvert spoke up, voice low but tone gentle and thoughtful, "But some time to adjust in a quieter and more comfortable manner does sound good. If there's something we lack, it's experience living together and being more acquainted with domestic interactions." He was right. If nothing else, making them aware of that was a positive.

  "It takes an everyday vibe to get used to your future everyday lives, right?" I immediately interjected, giving them a smile so fake it was genuine, "Also, while you guys are living together, another surveyor pair can handle your premarital counseling and help you set your prenup shoot wherever you decide to go out for your vacation-" But my following suggestion was quickly shot down, a charming voice with flailing hands cutting me off.

  "Woah, woah, time stop, take five, temporum haltus or whatever the heck. How'd we get from taking things slow to planning a vacation all of a sudden?" Amanda asked with quite a shock-laden face, eyes wide and blinking rapidly.

  "What? Don't tell me you weren't thinking of throwing a dart at a globe and booking a ticket straight to Antarctica if you had to the moment I suggested the idea..?" It was a two-for-one deal. The break gave them time to be together and become more familiar with domestic life. The vacation gave them something to work toward and look forward to and also served as a way to clear out another of the wedding requirements. See? Think-thank works when it needs to.

  "You got me there..." And it also helped that our olive-eyed client was already looking for an excuse to travel.

  But I did want to add some actual truth to my words, one that spoke to them instead of persuading them. Call it a brief showing of weakness or a too-late way of justifying my deceit, but I just felt like I had to say it.

  "Well, to sweeten up the deal a little more, just think of this as my final gift to Amanda Adler. How about that?" I said with a look that was probably less bright and more somber, one that seemed to be noticed by Amanda as her expression similarly faded, "You guys get to have fun at a distance where the sounds of us breaking our backs over work won't reach you. It sounds good, no?" And I believe, to some degree of hubris, that it was because she understood, "If you ask me, I think vacations can be twice as fun when you get to run away from your responsibilities and be let off scott-free." It was quiet for a bit, but not in an awkward way. More contemplative and one that would only be broken by the finality of agreement.

  "...Well, you drive a hard bargain, but," Though she said that, her eyes seemed to give me wholehearted permission, "Sure, why not?" She gave the others the same look before we shared a small laugh, and it felt as though my world-weariness wore off just a little.

  "Welp, with that out of the way, we've got some outings to tend to and prepare for. Do you mind if we throw you a call to exchange the rest of the details, let's say...Around later tonight?"

  "That's all good on my end, Keith?" Amanda looked at him, so pleasant. as if flowers were blooming around her.

  "No worries either." Her other half answered—worries assuaged as he gave us a look that wished us only the best. The pair stood up, stretching a bit and looking out of our large window and into the plains and winding roads of the outside. Snow piled, and the winter sky dully reflected the barely piercing light of the sun as it dotted the driveway and the expanse of our building. The day, and, in general, the ending to this little story of mine, was now beginning.

  And I had to make sure I did the best.

  "Alright then, you guys take care on your way." I bid them, standing up to the door and opening it. The two walked to it, Keith leading, and as he left, Amanda stayed for just a moment to face me.

  "You two do the same. Oh, and Bridger?" She caught my attention, the look as familiar as the memories of days that I still held onto, "Don't forget to mind yourself, m'kay?" As she left, the echoes of her voice lingered and curved around those images like tiny ribbons stretched taut yet still soft. The door closed, and it felt like, along with our clients, left a certain heft in my chest. I drew out a sigh, long having wanted to be exhaled, before I finally turned around and faced the silent peculiarity of the earlier exchanges, "You know, you have been awfully quiet for a while now?"The girl with silver hair adjusted a lock, facing me with an incongruent mix of emotions, "Well, I apologize for being taken aback by what you suddenly brought up. As much faith as you have in our synchronicity, there are some things I don't even know how to respond to." Myla explained, gaze far away as it seemed she wasn't annoyed or disappointed, more anxious than anything, "But, what's done is done. We can only make the best of it." She took the words right out of my mouth.

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  Still, it was some reassurance, knowing that she didn't seem to mind the stunt I just pulled. It's times like these that I wonder whether it was done out of trust or exasperation-turned-learned-helplessness. But I should digress and move along before my failing optimism fully sinks.

  "Right, guess that's our cue to get back to work. I'll start marking some places of interest and settle a few of our backlogged emails." I took a seat back on the sofa, opening my laptop to start shooting down some tasks, "How about you?"

  "I'll proofread the remaining transcripts from yesterday and settle our schedule." She stood up, moving to her desk, while I gave a simple thumbs-up in response.

  And so it started. Our funded mundanity, an ennui housed exclusively in the corners of our office and done to the tune of keys clicking and LED lights blaring as the text was written, words transcribed, and a mutual wordlessness acted as our veil of comfort shared only by us. It was, after all, an otherwise ordinary day.

  And maybe that comfort helped me deceive myself just a little better.

  Well, if it was at least convincing enough, something not helped by the strange silence coming from Myla's end—with not even the click-clack of a keyboard accompanying her. I tried to ignore it, concentrating on the web of nearby services and their reviews to get a headstart on what we'd need for the wedding. I squinted my eyes and scrutinized the comments, going through menus, descriptions, and everything else I could find before my focus was suddenly disturbed by the seat next to me sinking and the presence of another having made itself known. A second desktop joined mine on the table, documents aplenty on its screen as I turned to face the snow-pale visage of my companion, "Uhm...Fancy seeing you here? Do you wanna work in this spot today or..?"

  "Something of that sort," She replied without looking at me, "I just felt like sitting here for the time being." Nonchalant to the point of almost being cryptic, her replies didn't do much in the way of elucidation.

  "Oh, alright. I'll just move over to my desk and let you have-"

  "You don't have to bother adjusting or fretting so much. Just stay and work so I don't intrude on your flow further." Her cutting me off made it feel less like an invitation and more like an order, meaning I was stuck between a pillow and a cold place.

  "...Sure." I resumed or attempted to, doing my best to ignore the flowery notes that now floated in the dry air along with the streaks of silver that hovered just within my peripherals or the ambient heat of another body that made my heartbeat just a little bit easier to notice.

  Yep, a perfectly conducive working environment we got here. She didn't just inch a bit closer, did she?

  Not one thing wrong with it at all. By the way, I never paid much attention, but her nails are painted today. Neat.

  No sir-y. One last thing, is it just me, or does she seem a little...softer today?

  ...

  "...Yeah, no. I cannot focus at all with you here, girl." I finally threw the white flag high—neither the increased blood pressure nor my quickly misplaced focus was worth enduring for much longer.

  "What? Why?"

  "No reason..." I whispered, gears already turning to try and churn out an excuse, seeing as I was at least confident in my ability to do that, "That and, despite my many well-founded claims, it doesn't take a genius to figure out you want to say something, right?" She kept quiet for a moment before the cool sternness on her face melted, and a look of disquiet hesitantly revealed itself—as if acknowledging the unease would break something.

  With how delicate she's been with dealing with me, it might be time to stick a "Fragile: Handle Carefully" sticker on my forehead.

  Myla sighed as if reading my valueless monologues, disappointment not the primary emotion as instead she seemed daunted if not even a little shaken, "Despite what you told Amanda and Keith back there, you aren't feeling too confident about this whole ordeal, are you?" Her tone was low as if her voice was slowly reaching out with utmost care, cold yet incredibly mellow like the first wisps of snow falling on one's warm face, "Are you nervous about succeeding or afraid of failing?"

  I guess the two were different. One was directed to anxiety about making sure everything went according to plan, and the other was a fear of losing everything when given the chance. If that's what she was trying to say, then I guess my reply would have to be, "A little bit of column B and a little bit of column A, so you know, worst of both worlds."

  "You don't have to force yourself, you know that, right?" She wasn't typing, but her hands weren't still, fidgeting and clenching as she spoke, "I might be overstepping, but I think you've already done more than enough for them—far more than what any surveyor usually sets out to do and a frankly insane amount as someone's previous partner." I couldn't quite put my finger on the emotion resonant in her tone, but if I could describe it, it'd be a frustrated restlessness, "You have nothing left to prove. At least that's how I see it." There was something oddly...humorous about it all. Maybe I've just lost a few too many screws or-

  Yes, yes, you have. Actually, no, double that estimate of lost screws and continue.

  ...Or maybe it's because seeing Myla agonize so much over my current situation was a rather curious case. On the one hand, I'd been jokingly and earnestly pleading for her to spare me some of her consideration for quite a while now, but having finally received it, there was this strange sense of discomfort that followed it. Maybe I just didn't know how to take it after having coveted it for so long, or perhaps even with her permission, I didn't take well to handing the weight of my troubles on someone else.

  And so I guess, that meant I could only laugh, "Yep, a worrywart as always."

  My partner's face seemed to go through quite a number of emotions, shock, disappointment, and then finally anger that neither complimented her spotless face nor her cool disposition, "Fine then. I apologize for showing you the slightest hint of compassion." She stood up in a huff, the motion stirring me from my seat as her amber eyes, which were so gently fixed on me, was now turned away with only silver greeting me.

  "Listen, I didn't say it was a bad thing." Course-correction mode was quick to activate, my hand nearly reaching out to her but freezing the moment the edge of her gaze pierced me, "I'm smart- well, self-aware enough to know that I'm bad at worrying about myself, so it's reassuring being told someone's covering for me, alright?" Self-deprecating? Sure, but honest? That it was, too.

  "...I'd prefer if you could do it yourself." If I had the time, I would. But I knew saying that wouldn't make things any better.

  "I dunno about that, but if it makes you feel any better, I can say this," I gave as reassuring of a smile as I could muster, "Thanks."

  Her expression softened. Eyelids settling from their tense position and lips sinking into something resembling but not quite fully becoming a frown. Her snow-shade skin also seemed to flush with the hues of a sunset as it seemed taking compliments and thank-you's were not her strong suit.

  I'd love to tease her about it. But for now...

  "You're right, from most reasonable perspectives, this is probably real damn stupid. But what can you do? I'm selfish, not that admitting it makes it any better. I want to do more 'cause ever since then, it's never felt like I've done enough. Is it self-serving? Probably. But if it's done in the service of someone else's happiness, then I can somehow keep justifying it. Even if it stings a bit." I didn't know if what I said made much sense, but it was out there now, and all I could do was hope it was enough, "How's that sound?"

  She was quiet for what felt like an eternity until the tiniest motion of her mouth cued me into the fact that time was still moving, "I still can't let you do this." And what she said nearly made me panic, if not for what followed, "At least not professionally. But speaking as your partner, well...I'll let it go." She sat back down, the simple notion of being by my side again clearing away much of the tension in the air.

  My grin must've made me look a lot dumber than I already did, and to be honest, I didn't even catch myself making it, nor was I fully aware of why and how it appeared in the first place. All I knew was that it was there, and God, it must've been an eyesore.

  "But the moment things go south, I'm scolding you like hell." Her words dragged me back down, but that stupid expression did remain.

  "Wouldn't have it any other way." I liked to believe she partially thought the same, "That reminds me of you telling me something similar back when we handled Fable and Gale's case. The memory's still fresh in my noggin."

  "Was it at all effective?"

  "Yep, quite the convincing, if I do admit. I was horrified of messing up, y'know? Plus, you really put me on the spot with all the people watching."

  "...Well then, I guess that gives me an idea..." I couldn't look at her contemplative face for long, as soon she knelt down on the spot beside me with a focused gaze carried, “We use this when we’re dealing with clients in stressful situations, but I have heard it also works as a bit of a confidence booster.”

  “What is?”

  “Do you mind closing your eyes for a moment? And hold your hands together this.” Her hands were clasped together, like how one would hold them after clapping. I was skeptical, but her honest yet stern expression seemed trustworthy enough to follow, so my lids closed and my hands joined—making me aware of my breaths and of the tiny flashes of light that appeared in the darkness as I waited.

  …This is usually when the main character gets murdered. I’m getting murdered, aren’t I?

  “Think of this as a way to calm your nerves and as a good luck charm before you throw yourself out of the trenches.” Her voice was more resonant than usual, and the way it rang through my ears made it hard to tell just how close she was.

  Well, until the answer reached out and grabbed me.

  "Uhm...Myla?" A pressure held onto my closed hands, palms delicate and smaller than mine clasping them with a heat that felt like a blanket on a cold day. My eyes opened instinctively they were met with my partner whose eyelids remained shut along with her fingers upon mine.

  Hey, hey, hey..! I know what you're trying to pull, but the last time you did this, it was only my arm you grabbed—only my arm! Besides, you guys people in relationships do this sort of thing! This amount of skinship is beyond a pair of colleagues with a perfectly placed set of boundaries, which at no instance borders into being something more...

  I was at a complete loss of words, with Myla being similarly quiet but not out of shock but calm, no words snagging at her tongue but instead readying to be spoken with complete clarity "Listen..." She finally began, grasping neither loosely nor tightly, "I know you're nervous about a myriad of things both in and out of your control. And with your decision to take the lion’s share of the work, this job of ours went from difficult to problematic in a span of a few sentences. But please, while tending to their wishes, don’t just go off and decide that you’ll be willing to tear yourself apart just to succeed. We're partners, which means if anything goes wrong or even if you just think something might go wrong, don't hesitate for even a millisecond to call me, alright? There's nothing wrong with relying on me, or well, anyone." I'd say something clever or pedantic here, but my thoughts were completely preoccupied, and I think I was about to short-circuit if she gave my heart more reasons to implode. Her eyes reopened and the expression that sprung forth felt both playfully smug about catching me off-guard and genuinely hopeful that what she said could get through, "And if that’s not convincing enough, I'll chew your ear off with a lecture or something to that degree.”

  "Oh, that doesn't sound half-bad, actually."

  "What?"

  "Nothing."

  Ah, there's the Freudian slip.

  "W-Well, whatever the case, as long as you understand-"

  "Hey there, my beloved pair of older-than-me subordinates!" The door slammed open, and a voice bellowed from it, the source a young man wearing black threads fit for a king, "I heard what happened after running into Miss Adler and have come here to grace you with..." Alex began to scan the room, concentrating hard onto the couch with a pair of colleagues engaging in a perfectly reasonable amount of hand-holding, "...Advice and ideas and...Bad time?"

  "A little." Two voices replied in synch.

  "Right. Just so you know, if you'd like to continue the corner over there is a CCTV blindspot and-" Before he could finish his first piece of advice, a pillow quickly came flying that made him rethink his sudden entrance.

  "So that's how it is, huh?" Our executive remarked, sitting opposite us and with his hands together, "It still doesn't explain how you two ended up gazing into each other- and okay, I'm fine with being struck by pillows, but please put down the mug..." Myla lowered her weapon, albeit begrudgingly, "It's not unheard of for surveyors to take on this kind of work. Myla and I only ever allocated a week's worth of time, but depending on the commitment, I've even heard some spend around a month on this kind of job. But that's usually it since most just tend to one specific detail of the event. So, the idea of planning an entire one by yourselves? Well, it's certainly new."

  "Are you saying it can't be done?" It wasn't me who was quick to ask, but, instead, my partner.

  "I'd hate to burst both of my friends' bubbles, so of course I wouldn't come here if that was the case. We've got some weird circumstances, which I think means I can arrange and call for similarly odd solutions." Alex gave us both a smile that bordered between satisfied and dubious.

  "Add that to the growing list of things we have you to thank for."

  "I can't guarantee it'll all be sunshine, Bridger. I can reduce your workload a bit, but miracles? That's more of you guys' forte." He sat cross-legged as he cheekily reassured us, "Still, we'll still have to weave in some of your usual work alongside whatever meetings and clients you already had in your timetable."

  "That's what I was worried about," I mumbled, clicking my tongue at the thought, "It's fine for me, but..." My eyes wandered toward my partner.

  For her, however, such doubt was wholly unnecessary, "I told you already, did I not? We do this together, partner." And her little smirk that followed made me wish my eyes could take photographs.

  I think I need a check-up. I'm not sure coworkers are supposed to glow...

  "Honestly, you guys are getting way too soft on each other. I swear this room's atmosphere is gonna turn me diabetic."

  "What was that?" Myla suddenly shot, but surprisingly, her previous partner didn't seem to budge.

  "Nothing, nothing, at all. Besides, that's not entirely a bad thing..." He said the latter half in a whisper before heaving a breath and standing up, "Right, I'll wrangle up some spare surveyors to help out Miss Adler and Mister Kirby. I'll look for whatever files we have on wedding planning and also find the contact lists for any planners, caterers, and other miscellaneous services aiAI uses as referrals. So, keep your contacts open." He was already at the door by the time his spiel ended, and his smile was as wide as can be.

  "Thanks for the assist, boss."

  "You're welcome, thank you, and adieu." And for the first time, I really believed that Alexandre Adams was truly our executive, "Now then, good luck with everything, and try not to spend too much time admiring each other- okay, okay! No mugs, please, they're company property!" Even if it was a short-lived perspective.

  He closed the door, and the room fell back to its usual monotony. I turned to Myla, who was slowly putting down our glassware, offering a satisfied grin, which she promptly returned.

  We returned to our work, still sat side-by-side, and while I wouldn't say I was back up to full efficiency, what was earlier a nervous awareness became more of a comforting presence. Maybe I'm becoming overeliant, or maybe I haven't relied enough. But in the meantime, I think I can at least take things in stride and hope for the best, even if I'm not exactly my best.

  And I'd best hold on to that belief for as long as I can.