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Her hand found mine beneath the covers. “So whatever you do next…”

She squeezed. “Don’t lie to yourself about what you saw.”

19

Blair

There were certain questions I asked before accepting residential clients now. I needed to know their budget, timeline, style, and—

“Married?”

Janelle looked up from her laptop. “Yes.”

“Both names on the contract?”

“Yes.”

“Both emails?”

“Yes, Blair.”

“Both attending today’s walkthrough?”

She stopped typing. “Do you want their blood types too?”

I looked over my monitor. “What?”

“You do this every time.”

“I do what?”

“This.” She waved a hand at me. “The interrogation.”

“It’s called preparation.”

“It’s called trauma.”

I ignored her and returned my attention to the floor plans. The couple hired me for a big project that would pay almost six figures. I knew once I was done, I’d have potential magazine features if everything photographed the way I envisioned it.

The couple was married and I know that shouldn’t have mattered. Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have. But after everything, I liked married couples in pairs.

If I emailed the husband, the wife was copied. If he texted me, I moved the conversation to the group thread. If one spouse requested a change, I documented it and confirmed it with both. There were no such things as surprise purchases, secret upgrades, no don’t tell my wife how much this cost, or no don’t tell my husband I changed this. If someone wanted secrets in their marriage, they needed to hire someone else for the job. I had already done enough secret keeping for one lifetime.

Janelle stood. “You know they’re not everyone else.”

I looked up. “What?”

“The Hendersons.”

“I know.”

“Mrs. Henderson loves you.”

I turned back to my desk. “I know.”

“She requested you specifically.”

“I know.” I glanced at the clock. “I need to leave.”