Kingsley stayed there longer than he should have.
His coffee had long gone cold, untouched for the most part, just resting in his hands as he sat back in the corner of The Quiet Brew. He wasn’t trying to be invisible, but he wasn’t trying to make a scene either. He just needed to be near her. Even if she didn’t want to see him. Even if she had every reason to hate him.
From where he sat, he had a quiet, steady view of her. Katherine. Moving like she always did, purposeful, elegant in that no-nonsense way. She kept her eyes on her work, didn’t glance at him once, and Kingsley respected that—though it pained him.
The café began to thin. The lunch rush had died down, and the crowd that once hummed with conversation and orders was settling into scattered pockets of quiet. A few people still
