It poured on Thursday.
Mia walked out of the office building and found someone standing in the entrance of her building when she got home, clothes soaked through and clinging to his skin, no umbrella.
It was Cole, gripping a bouquet of red roses that had been knocked sideways by the rain, petals scattered in the puddles.
"How long have you been here?" she asked.
"Since noon."
Six hours.
She was quiet for three seconds, then stepped onto the stairs and walked past him without a word. At the second-floor landing she stopped, turned, and came back down. Cole took a quick step forward, thinking she'd changed her mind.
She set her soaking wet umbrella on the floor beside his feet, still folded.
He looked at it, then bent slightly, but didn't pick it up. Instead, he grabbed her hand. His
