Chapter 13 Thirteen

Chapter 13 Thirteen
. I woke earlier than usual, long before my alarm, and lay there staring at the wall while the room slowly brightened. My thoughts drifted back to Adrian more easily than I wanted them to. His voice from yesterday lingered in my mind. Calm. Controlled. Careful. It was getting harder to pretend that his behavior did not affect me.

I forced myself out of bed. Today needed to be normal. I needed to stay focused.

Lily was in a cheerful mood when she woke up. She bounced on her toes as she brushed her teeth and rushed through breakfast so she could draw something before we left.

After dropping her at daycare, I drove to work with a quiet determination to keep my emotions contained. When I walked through the lobby and reached my office, I felt a small flicker of relief at the sight of my desk. Work made sense. Work stayed still when everything else shifted.

I had barely settled when my phone vibrated.

Good morning. Let me know if you are available at ten for a brief conversation about the upcoming consultation.

I exhaled slowly. I typed back:

Ten is fine.

I spent the next hour reviewing projections. It felt good to sink into something predictable. The numbers stayed still. The rows and columns lined up neatly. But the moment ten approached, my nerves tugged tight.

I walked to his office and gave a quiet knock before entering.

Adrian stood near his desk. He was dressed in a crisp suit, but the first thing I noticed was the faint softness around his eyes. He did not look tense. He looked focused, but not in an intimidating way.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

“What did you need.”

He gestured toward the small sitting area. I reluctantly walked over and sat. He took the seat beside me, angled slightly but giving me space.

“Dr. Carver confirmed a slot for Thursday,” he said. “Does that work for you.”

“Yes. That is fine.”

He nodded. “Good.”

Silence lingered for a few seconds, but not awkwardly. It felt like he wanted to say something more and was choosing his timing carefully.

“I have been thinking,” he said finally. “About what we discussed yesterday.”

I folded my hands. “What part.”

“The part about rebuilding communication.”

My heart tightened.

He continued. “I understand why you said no to meeting outside the office. I respect the boundary. But I want to offer something different. Something low pressure.”

I stayed quiet, waiting.

“There is a coffee shop in the lobby,” he said. “Public. Neutral. Very short. We can sit for ten minutes. Nothing more. You can leave whenever you want. No expectations.”

I stared at him. He held my gaze but did not push.

“I am not asking for a date,” he added. “I am asking for a comfortable place to speak where the pressure of this office does not follow us.”

My pulse picked up even though his tone remained calm.

“I do not know,” I said quietly.

“You do not have to decide now. Just think about it.”

He leaned back slightly, observing me with the same careful patience he had been showing for weeks.

The room felt smaller than it was. Warmer too. My throat felt tight.

I stood. “I need to go back to work.”

He stood as well. “Of course.”

But as I stepped toward the door, he said quietly, “Take your time. I can wait.”

I did not turn around. I left the room and shut the door behind me.

My emotions felt tangled for the rest of the morning. The idea of sitting with him in a quiet, public place should not have made my heart race. But it did.

Around noon, I needed air, so I went to the courtyard again. The benches were mostly empty. I sat alone and tried to steady my thoughts.

My phone buzzed.

I hope your day has not been too overwhelming. If you need anything, let me know.

I stared at the message. I should have ignored it. Instead, I typed:

I am managing. Thank you.

His reply came seconds later.

If anything becomes difficult, I am here.

I placed the phone face down and inhaled slowly. My reactions to him were getting too unpredictable. I felt steadier when he was distant. Now he was close, not physically but emotionally, and it was harder to maintain the boundaries I had built.

When I returned to my office, I tried to force myself into work again.

A little later, Evelyn came by.

“Mr. Knight is heading to a site meeting,” she said. “He wanted me to ask if you will be joining him.”

I checked my schedule. “Yes. I will be there.”

The car ride to the site meeting was quiet at first. Adrian sat beside me, reviewing documents. I kept my focus on the window, watching the city pass in steady patterns.

Halfway through the drive, he spoke.

“I want you to know something.”

I looked at him hesitantly.

“You handled everything at the consultation better than most people would.”

A warm tension settled in my chest. “I was honest. That is all.”

“Honesty is not always easy,” he said. “Especially when there is a lot at stake.”

I turned my gaze back to the window. Compliments from him unnerved me more than criticism ever had.

The meeting went smoothly. I presented my part, he presented his, and we handled questions efficiently. But several times during the meeting, I felt his eyes on me. Not in a possessive way. Not in a controlling way. Just in a quiet, observing way that made my stomach tighten.

On the drive back, the conversation resumed without warning.

“Did you think about what I said,” he asked.

“About the coffee shop.”

“Yes.”

“I do not know if it is a good idea.”

“I will not push,” he said. “But I want to understand why.”

I hesitated. The truth felt too vulnerable, yet the words slipped out anyway.

“Because things feel different lately,” I said. “And that makes everything harder.”

His expression softened. “Different is not always bad.”

“It can be,” I said.

“Yes,” he agreed quietly. “But it can also mean growth.”

The car grew quiet again, but the silence felt charged.

At the office, we stepped out of the car and walked side by side toward the entrance. For a brief moment, the back of his hand brushed against mine. It was not direct contact. It was the slightest graze, almost accidental. But my breath caught.

He noticed. I could tell by the subtle tightening of his jaw.

He did not comment. Neither did I.

We separated in the hallway, and I spent the rest of the afternoon pretending nothing had happened.

When I left work, I picked up Lily and took her home. She ran into her room to show me a new drawing, chattering excitedly. It grounded me again. Her presence always did.

After dinner, she settled into bed easily. I sat beside her until her breathing steadied. When I finally went to my room, I sat on the edge of the bed with my phone in my hand.

No message from him.

I did not know if I was relieved or disappointed.

Before I could think too long, I typed a message.

I thought about your suggestion.

I hesitated.

Then I added:

Coffee is fine. Ten minutes.

His reply came within seconds.

Whenever you are ready.

I set my phone down and lay back against my pillows.

I should have felt anxious. I should have felt overwhelmed. But instead I felt something quieter.

Anticipation.

For the first time, I realized that I wanted to see where this slow shift might lead. I was not ready for romance. I was not ready for trust. But I was ready for one thing.

A beginning.

And that was more than I expected.