"Very."
"I can tell."
I stayed near the doorway and watched her work. There was something deeply satisfying about seeing her in my private space, evaluating it, changing it simply by standing in it.
She looked back at me.
"You really thought I'd come."
"No," I said. "I knew."
Something shifted in her face, gone as quickly as it came. She opened the notebook and started writing.
"Confidence isn't always attractive."
"And yet."
"And yet nothing."
She crossed to the windows and looked out at the side garden. Sunlight fell across her hair and shoulders. I should've looked away and didn't.
"Why this room?" she asked without turning.
Because I wanted you here.
Because I wanted a reason to think about you every time I walked in.
Because clearing it felt better than winning motions a
