“See that's where you're wrong. If the company fails we all fail.”
I held up the bag and the cup of tea. “I brought breakfast."
She cocked her head and gave me a small smile.
“Can I pull you away from your mountain of papers and codes and make sure that you have a proper meal?”
“Is that from Millie’s?” She lit up. The first spark I’d seen since I’d arrived.
I stepped past her before she could decide whether to stop me. The door closed behind us with a soft click that sounded far louder than it should have.
She turned slowly.
“You don’t get to just walk in here.”
“I know.” I shrugged. That seemed to irritate her more than an argument would have. She crossed her arms, shoulders tight, chin lifting like she was bracing for impact.
“Then why are you in my living room?”
I set the bag and the cup of tea down on the counter. “Because you didn’t sleep. Because you lied about it. And because whatever you dragged home last night followed you here.”
Her jaw clenched. “You don’t know that.”
I glanced at the coffee table again, at the laptop still open, the mess she never allowed herself. “You don’t leave things like this ever.”
That did it.
She stared at me, something flickering behind her eyes. Not fear. Calculation. “Have you been keeping tabs on me now? This is my home, I can do as I wish. Maybe I’m messy. You never know, I could be a slob.” She settled her hand on her hip in a stance of defiance.
“I pay attention.” I met her gaze, steady. “And you are precise.”
She looked away first.
It wasn’t dramatic. Just a slight turn of her head, as if she were deciding which fight was worth having this early in the morning. She exhaled slowly, then gestured vaguely toward the door.
“You’ve said your peace,” she said. “Now you can leave.”
I didn’t move.
Instead, I reached into the bag and pulled out the sandwich before grabbing the cup of tea. I gestured to the couch.
“Sit,” I said. Not sharp. Not loud. Just matter of factly.
Her eyes snapped back to mine. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not here.”
“I get to tell you what’s going to happen next.”
That earned me a humorless laugh. “Oh, do you?”
“You’re going to eat,” I said. “Then you’re going to tell me what you found. And then we’re going to decide whether this stays a work problem or becomes something else.”
Her fingers flexed at her sides. “And if I don’t?”
I held her gaze. Let the silence stretch long enough that we could hear the refrigerator hum, the city outside waking up.
“Then I stay anyway,” I said. “And we have this conversation when you’re not shaking from hunger and exhaustion.”
Her mouth opened, then closed again. She looked past me, toward the door. Toward the option she wasn’t taking.
