I stood in the middle of that awkward silence with Vivienne, watching it grow longer by the second. Neither of us seemed prepared for what comes after a confession. Pretty funny, considering she's normally Miss "I Have a Color-Coded Plan for the Next Six Months."
My stomach decided to fill our conversational void with what can only be described as the death cry of a whale. Loud. Undignified. Impossible to ignore.
Vivienne's mouth twitched.
Then she did something I'd never witnessed in my three weeks of employment.
She laughed.
Not that polite, camera-ready chuckle she uses at press events. A real laugh—short, surprised, almost shocked at herself for producing it. The sound lasted maybe two seconds before she clapped her hand over her mouth like she'd committed a crime.
"Sorry," she said through her fingers. Her ears had turned pink. "That was."
"Rude?"
"I was going to say unexpected."
"Yeah, well. My internal organs don't care about timing."
