Or is that new?
Shadow appears in front of me, and I crouch down to give him the greeting he missed out on before. His tail swishes excitedly as he tries to lick anywhere he can reach. At least he hasn’t totally forgotten me.
When I stand, I catch Grace watching us, but she still won’t look me in the eyes. Before I can think more on that, I catch sight of the floor by the bench—the now clean floor, which was covered in coffee when I left this morning.
“Did you clean the floor?” I ask, aware that I’m staring. I only get a glimpse of her dark blue eyes before they’re gone once again, and it’s starting to frustrate me how much I want to see them.
“Yes,” she says, her voice soft.
I stare at her a moment longer before shaking my head. First the hidden photos, then the smile, now the coffee. This girl continues to both surprise and confuse me, and I have no idea what to think of any of it.
The food I’d bought sits untouched on the stone island between us, still in the plastic bags. As I start pulling the contents out, I can’t help but notice Grace’s eyes widen as container after container is placed on the bench.
With the food now laid out in front of me, I realise I might have gone a little overboard. I called in an order from my favourite Italian restaurant—a little family-run place on the edge of the city centre—and picked it up on the way here. It’s far better than any of the more expensive ones in the heart of the city.
I should probably be ashamed to say they know me by name, but there are only so many options when you spend late nights in the office and never cook.
“I didn’t know what you like.” I clear my throat. “There’s meat, no meat, and there should be ah…” I try to read the scribbled descriptions on each container. “Salad,” I say, picking up the one I was looking for.
She doesn’t say anything, her eyes flicking between the food and me. This was a bad idea. Why did I ever let Lauren get in my head? I’d been managing fine this whole time, and now the situation with Grace, with her beinghere. I should have stayed at the office. Instead, I’ll be playing fucking catch-up all day tomorrow.
It’s not too late—I could take my food to my office and do what I can from here. I have access to the company server, so I’d still be able to access most of what I would need to fit in enough work to cover the rest of tonight. I’m about to do just that when the softest smile graces her lips, barely perceivable, and I’m drawn directly to the small gesture.
“Thank you,” she says, pulling one of the containers to her without even looking to see what it is.