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“You can’t see that.”

“I can’t read it from here.”

Jamie picks up his book, moves to the chair beside mine, and sits down.

I close the client file.

He smiles. “You said I couldn’t see it from over there.”

“That wasn’t permission to come over here.”

“Do you want me to move?”

I catch the leg of his chair and drag it closer until his thigh presses against mine. “If you’re going to disobey, do it where I can reach you.”

For the next hour, Jamie stays there. He doesn’t read much. He asks questions instead. How long I’ve worked from home. Whether I have a boss. Why one client has sent me four emails in less than an hour.

“Because he thinks sending the same question more often will change the answer.”

Jamie leans closer to read the subject line of the newest email. “Maybe the fifth time is the charm.”

“It isn’t.”

I delete it.

He laughs. A real one this time. Fear did exactly what I needed. It made him easier without making him dull.

I let him stay.

Another email comes in. Same client. Jamie sees the name and laughs again.

I turn my chair enough to look at him. “You’re laughing at me.”

“I’m laughing at Greg.”

“You don’t know Greg.”

I delete that one too.

Jamie stays beside me after that. Close enough that his knee occasionally touches mine beneath the table. The first time it happens, he moves it. The third time, he doesn’t. I press my knee against his to make sure it wasn’t an accident.

He doesn’t move.

When I finish the last account, I close my laptop.

Jamie looks at the clock. “That’s it?”

“For today.”

“Do you do this every day?”

“Most days.”

“Alone?”

I look at him.

“Before me,” he says.