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RUBY

I’ve been staring at the cover for twenty minutes, which usually means I need to walk away from it. Instead, I zoom in one more time and study the broken line cutting through the darker shapes, making sure nothing feels too literal.

If this were any other client, I’d send the file and wait for notes. Zander’s opinion shouldn’t make me this nervous, but apparently professionalism has limits.

He knocks a few minutes later, and I let him in before I can find another unnecessary thing to adjust.

“You look serious,” he says.

“I’ve been working on this for two weeks. Sit down.”

He does, still smiling, while I turn the laptop toward him. “It’s not completely finished. There are a few things I still want to clean up, and the typography can change, so look at the overall concept first.”

The smile disappears as soon as he sees it.

He leans closer, eyes moving slowly over the cover, and the longer he stays quiet, the more nervous I get.

“Well?”

Zander looks at me. “Ruby, this is it.”

“You’ve been looking at it for thirty seconds.”

“Didn’t need thirty.”

He turns the laptop slightly and studies it again. “The line feels like sound and a road at the same time, and nothing else is too obvious. It feels like the album.”

Relief hits hard enough that I laugh. “You really like it?”

“I fucking love it.”

He’s already reaching for his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Showing the guys.”

“Zander, it’s not finished.”

“They’re not going to care.”

He sends a photo before I can stop him, and replies start coming in almost immediately.

Holy shit.

That’s the cover.

Don’t change the middle.

I laugh as another message comes through, followed by a call that Zander answers on speaker. Within seconds, the whole band is talking over one another about vinyl and artwork and which parts they like best.

By the time the call ends, I’m staring at the cover differently.

Zander notices. “You okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just strange hearing all of you talk about it like it already belongs to the album.”

“It does.”