“Thanks again,” I say, lifting the soup slightly.
He nods. “Feel better, Ivy.”
Then they’re gone, and I’m left standing in my doorway, staring at the space where they just were.
The office of Woods & Dubois is exactly as I remember—too bright, too loud, and already filled with the unmistakable scent of someone’s overly ambitious meal prep, despite it barely being nine in the morning.
I step inside, adjusting the strap of my bag, and spot Christa at the front desk, typing aggressively, her brows furrowed in frustration.
“Either you’re hard at work or drafting a furious resignation email,” I say, leaning against the counter.
She startles slightly, then looks up, eyes lighting up with a grin. “Oh my God, look who it is! Back from the dead.”
“It was a cold, Christa, not the plague.”
She leans back in her chair, arms crossed. “Yeah, well, judging by the way Theo the Hot Barista was talking about you last week, I was expecting a tragic farewell announcement.”
I groan. “Do not call him that.”
She shrugs. “I can’t help it. It’s accurate. And it annoys you.”
I shake my head. “He’s not even a barista. He owns the place.”
“Right, but Theo the Hot Coffee Shop Owner doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
I sigh. “Why were you even talking to him?”
Christa gives me an exaggerated look. “I was getting coffee. Like a normal person. And he was asking how you were.” She tilts her head, eyes sharp with amusement. “Very concerned, by the way.”
My face warms slightly, which is ridiculous. “He was just being polite.”
She smirks. “Sure.”
I ignore her. “Anyway, he did look after me. Brought soup. Lucy made me a get-well card.”
Christa clutches her chest. “That child is too precious.”
“She’s a cheeky monkey… but adorable, I give you that.”
“All Theo’s doing, I guess,” she muses. “He’s got the doting single dad thing down. He’ll be fighting off school mums left and right.”
I huff a laugh. “His yoga instructor definitely fancies him.”Ah, there is the bitter taste again. The same one I have every time Safiya talks to Theo.
Christa grins. “Can you blame her? A man who owns a coffee shop and knows how to braid hair? He’s basically a rom-com lead waiting to happen.”
Before I can reply, a too-polished voice cuts through the air behind me.
“Oh, Ivy! Lovely to see you in the office.”
I don’t even have to turn around to know who will ruin my day in like five seconds. Caroline.
I school my expression before facing her. She stands there, immaculate as always—perfectly pressed blouse, sharp bob, a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“It’s been so long since we’ve had the pleasure,” she continues, tone light but pointed.
I return her smile, just as polished. “Nice to see you too, Caroline.”
She looks at me with content. “I imagine it must feel good to be back. There’s just something about working in the office, don’t you think?”
