By ten, the office had its usual soundtrack. Keyboards. Bad coffee. Someone was laughing too hard at the printer. I dropped my bag, hid a smile at the memory of last night, and pretended to care about a spreadsheet called “final_v7_real_this_time.”
He texted at 10:06.
Him: Survive the rain?
Me: Barely. Soup tonight as a reward.
Him: Book it.
Maya slid in with two coffees and a look. “You are glowing.” It’s offensive.”
“Mind your business,” I said, stealing her croissant.
She pointed at my face. “That is soup glow.”
Before I could come up with a lie, Reception pinged the whole floor.
Lobby: Visitor here for Mr. J. No appointment. Says it’s important.
Maya raised a brow. “Your man has a surprise guest.”
“Probably a client,” I said, too fast.
I forced my eyes back to the sheet. Nu
