Blue leans down to plant a kiss on my heated cheek. “I’m glad no one is sending you flowers,” he whispers. “They’re beautiful,” I reply. “Did you find the house okay?” “Yeah, no problems at all.” He sweeps his gaze across the living room. “This is nice. You always have the nicest colors. All my walls are white.” “We learned in art class that white is the absence of color,” Lyric says, and Blue nods. “I’d agree with that.”
