I squeeze my eyes shut and think back. He’s right. Anya talked about it as we walked back to her office after our Wednesday meeting. “Are there any days you aren’t free for the site visit?” she’d asked.
I was so excited, I answered, “No. I’m fully open.”
“Great. I’ll try and get it set as soon as possible. If it’s before Tuesday, it might be with someone else. I’ll be in Gainesville this weekend with my son.”
I nodded, far too distracted by the idea of my first site visit to connect the dots.
Leon’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” he says, setting his fork down. “Site visits are fun. And with Theo, you’ll see more than you would with Sharma.”
“Great,” I mutter, glancing back toward our boss.
Lina is standing in front of him with her hands planted on her hips, an annoyed expression on her face. “What do you mean you don’t want dessert?” she says, raising her voice. “Youalwaysorder dessert.”
Theo shrugs and lifts the familiar red-and-white Rocky Road wrapper from beside his plate.
Lina’s mouth tightens. “That isnota dessert.”
“It is to me,” he replies mildly.
She tsks and swats his shoulder with her napkin. “I already made you my cannolis,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “Filled fresh. You don’t say no to food I made with my own hands.”
Theo hesitates, then sets the candy bar down and takesthe plate she slides in front of him. He takes one bite. Nods once, conceding the point. “Good boy,” she says.
A moment later, when Lina turns back toward the kitchen, he quietly reaches for the Rocky Road again, breaking off a piece. His eyes close and he lets it sit on his tongue for a second longer than necessary.
I look down at my pasta before my smile can give me away.
Leon follows my gaze and hums thoughtfully. “That’s about the only thing I’ve ever seen compete with Lina’s cooking.”
I glance at him.
He lowers his voice. “He once told me they’re the closest thing to the tiffin bars his grandmother used to make.”
Hearing Leon’s words makes the effort feel worth it. Tracking down those candy bars hasn’t been easy, and sneaking them onto his desk takes more planning than I’d ever admit—but knowing they brighten his day, even a little, settles something warm and solid in my chest.
The following morning,I call Alice as I sit in my car in front of the office. She answers on the third ring. Her phone’s camera is angled so badly that the first thing I see is a towering wall of cereal boxes. When she adjusts it, the view shifts to her pushing a grocery cart down an aisle.
Yes, shocker, she does her own grocery shopping. Today, she’s dressed like I usually am in faded jeans and an oversized hoodie, earbuds tucked in, sunglasses perched on top of her head like a crooked crown.
Behind her, I spot Angela, her protectionofficer, dressed in plainclothes and pretending very hard—and failing—to not look like she’s on duty.
I snicker. “You know, Angela might blend in better if she weren’t mindlessly grabbing things at random off the shelf. Does she realize she’s holding, like, nine boxes of cereal and four containers of laundry detergent?”
“I doubt it.” Alice glances over her shoulder, then back at me, her mouth quirking. “She’s been on edge all week. Her boyfriend’s being transferred off my detail and reassigned to my brother Eddie’s,” Alice tells me in a low voice.
I lean back in my car’s seat. “I can see why she might be upset. She’ll be going from seeing him every day to only having their days off to spend together. Did he ask for the transfer? Seems strange.”
I know better than anyone how thin the line is between the officer and the principal. When you have protection officers with you 24/7, the professional boundaries tend to blur into something far more personal. You don’t just share a space; you share a life. We’re every bit as invested in their lives as they are in ours. They watch our backs, so we watch their hearts—and gossip accordingly.
“Yes, but for a good reason.” A wicked grin crosses Alice’s lips as she pulls the phone closer to her face. “I have it on good authority that Angela is going to receive a proposal this weekend. He’s thinking about the future. Married couples can’t be on the same detail for some archaic reason.”
“Aww, that’s brilliant!” I clap my hands together. “Any ideas of how he’s going to pop the big question?”
Alice shakes her head. “He asked Eddie for help, which means whatever he does is going to be wildly over the top. You know how my brother is.” She snickers. “Last we talked, Eddie was researching those planes that writemessages in the sky, so I’m guessing something along those lines.”
She steers the cart into the next aisle just as a precarious tower of canned beans wobbles. Angela, blissfully unaware, adds several more cans to her growing hoard.
I grin. “Skywriting, huh? It sounds perfect for her.”
