“That’s dramatic.”
“It's true.”
He studied her a moment. The set of her jaw. The way she scanned the room once every thirty seconds, casual but trained. The way her foot tapped beneath the table, probably unconsciously.
“You’re not relaxed,” he said.
“Neither are you.”
“Yeah, but I fake it better.”
Shannon’s eyes finally cut to his. “Is that what this is? A fake?”
Dante didn’t look away. “You tell me.”
She leaned forward slightly, her hands still wrapped around the mug. “You’re supposed to be my detail. You’re not supposed to meet me for coffee.”
“I’m not your detail anymore,” he said. “Technically, my rotation ended graduation day.”
“Technically.”
“I wanted to see you.” That landed harder than he wanted it to.
She looked down at her cup, then back up. “I asked you to lunch to say thank you. Why are you really here?”
“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
She exhaled slowly. “You always talk like that?”
“Only when I mean it.”
She shook her head, but there was no denial in it. Just a small, exhausted smile. “You’re a terrible idea, Olivetti.”
“Best kind,” he said.
They sat in it then, the honest part. The moment where nothing was a mission anymore. There were no assignments and no call signs. They were just a man and a woman who’d been pretending not to see each other for years.
“Do you always sit like you’re waiting for a sniper?” she asked.
Dante arched a brow. “Do you always scan the door for threats before you speak?”
Shannon shrugged. “Only when I feel vulnerable.”
“And do you?”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “I do.”
He nodded once, like that answered everything. Outside, a bus hissed to a stop. A couple passed the window holding hands.
“I’m not good at this,” Shannon said suddenly. “The whole... letting someone in thing. I keep people at arm’s length. Sometimes two arms.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Dante said. “You walk like a fortress.”
She smiled, just a flicker. “And yet you keep circling.”
“I’m not circling,” he said. “I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
