James stood in the doorway of his office—his old office, his new office, the office that had somehow become his again through a series of events he was still processing.
Emma was waiting by the windows. Looking out at Manhattan like it held answers to questions she hadn't asked yet.
"You came back," she said without turning around.
"You asked me to."
She turned then. And James felt his breath catch the way it always did when he really looked at her. Not just glanced, not just noticed, but actually saw her.
She was wearing the navy suit from the San Francisco conference. Professional armor. But her eyes gave her away—nervous, uncertain, hopeful in a way that made his chest tight.
"I need to say something," Emma said. Then corrected herself. "No. I need to give you something."
She pul
