“Kinley?” a voice slips through the haze. The woman in blues stops beside me, surprise on her face. “You’re up early.”
I set the mug down. “I am.”
Her eyes land on the sweatshirt. Eli’s sweatshirt. I shift uncomfortably, feeling exposed beneath her all-too-knowing gaze.
“And the Major?” She raises an eyebrow, casual but clearly fishing.
“Still asleep.” I don’t add that he sleeps like a rock when he finally crashes. “But don’t worry. I’ll eat and head back.”
She presses her lips together, her expression guarded. “Can I sit?”
Annoyance flickers in my chest. I breathe through it. “Sure.”
“I’m Frances,” she says.
I nod and shove a piece of bacon into my mouth. If she wants to chat this early, she can carry the conversation.
“Lark and I went to the Academy together,” she continues. “Before I transferred to logistics.”
Okay. Interest officially piqued.
“That was a long time ago, Frances.”
“He was a good friend to me back then,” she says with a soft exhale.
Friend? As in lover? Friend with benefits? What are we talking about here?
“You two were an item?” I ask, cutting to the chase.
She shakes her head. “Not my type. Genetically speaking.”
“Oh.”
“He was different back then,” she says.
Great. A history lesson on Lark with my coffee.
“How so?” I ask, indulging her.
“He used to be fun,” she says flatly.
I nearly spit out my coffee.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Frances leans in conspiratorially. “He was still Lark. Responsible. Rule-bound. But he had a sense of humor.”
“Seriously?”
“It was a long time ago,” she says, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “He organized a ping pong championship at the Academy. We trained for months. I even had a paddle custom-made. He sprained his thumb in the first match and was disqualified.”
“Tragic,” I deadpan.
Frances hesitates. “I just thought you might want to know what your fiancé used to be like.”
“We’re not engaged anymore,” I correct her.
“You’re not?”
“He cheated on me,” I say. “With his secretary. I walked in on Gina bent over his desk while he… well, you get the picture.”