Page 107 of True Colors

I huff out a breath. “A question, man to woman. What does groveling properly look like?”

“It looks like you fixing the professional harm first,” she declares. “Publicly. You restore her agency and her authority. You make it unmistakable that what happened was wrong. And you were the wrongdoer.”

“And privately?”

“You tell her the truth,” Ria instructs. “That you were afraid. That you chose comfort over courage. That you failed her. And then you shut up and let her respond…or not.”

Silence stretches between us as I process her advice.

Finally, I ask, “You really think I can come back from this?”

“I think you can become a better man whether she takes you back or not.” Her tone softens. “If she does forgive you, it should be a byproduct—not the prize.”

Is my baby sister the coolest shrink or what?

“God, you’re good at this.”

She snorts. “I’m working on a PhD in org psychology, Luther. I had better be good at this.”

Show-off.

“Thanks, Ri, for never sugarcoating it.”

“Big brother, telling you that you fucked up is my favorite thing in the world,” she quips breezily.

CHAPTER 25

Anouk

Idon’t expect him to show up. I also don’t want him to. I’m not doing great. I’m not ready for him. But he’s here whether I like it or not.

We just got back from Kezar, and I’m having my nightly chamomile when there’s a knock on our apartment door.

Finn walks to the door and looks through the keyhole. He turns to me and wiggles his eyebrows. “You know who it is.”

I drink some tea. Take my time.

“You want me to let him in?” Finn drawls.

“I d-don’t kn-know.”

Just like that, my stutter is manifesting. Damn Luther!

“You gotta deal with him, Annie.” He looks through the keyhole again. “Also, he looks like shit.”

I scoff at that. “B-big d-deal. I f-feel like sh-shit.”

A part of me is glad he’s here—that he wants to apologize. Fragments of me also want very much to rewind to the day before yesterday, when I had a boyfriend and a job I loved. But the Anouk from a few days ago believed in fairytales.

I now know better.

Because the real me—the one shaped by reality, by consequences—knows that there is no rewinding this. No undoing it. Luther didn’t just make a bad decision. He told me that my disability—something I struggle with every day—was a liability to him.

And I don’t know how you forgive someone for seeing you that way.

I motion for Finn to step away, and he does.

I take a deep breath and open the door.