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He laughed. “Well, somebody has to be. You would probably burn the building down if you were responsible for your own meals.”

“And how do you suppose I eat the half of the week that you don’t feed me? I am capable of cooking, Noah.”

“I’m sure you are. But I’m better.”

Silence.

He was right. He was. She would not tell him that. Instead, she replied, “You wish.”

He grinned. “You’re eating my soup, princess.”

Claire took another bite purely so she would have an excuse not to answer. Noah only smiled and returned to his soup.

CHAPTER 7

Routine

For once, Claire did not oversleep. In fact, she was having a great morning.

Noah, however, did not deliver coffee to her this morning, so she would have to get her own. Which was fine. She did not expect Noah to bring her coffee or rely on that. He only did it sometimes anyway.

She walked into the lobby and ordered her coffee. An iced vanilla latte. Oat milk.

“Thank you,” she said to the barista as she grabbed her latte.

She glanced to the door, expecting to see Noah and Biscuit coming in. But they didn’t. She waited five minutes, glancing at the door every time it opened.

No Noah. No Biscuit.

She frowned. Then she caught herself.

Why was she disappointed?

And why did her day suddenly feel off?

The latte tasted exactly the way it always did. Somehow, that only made it more annoying that the morning still felt incomplete.

“Whatever,” she muttered. “I’ve got to get to work.”

Claire walked into the conference room with her laptop tucked under one arm and a notebook in the other.

This time, she was five minutes early.

Mrs. Sinclair looked up. “Trying to make a point?”

Claire took her seat. “I have no idea what you mean.”

Avery laughed from across the table.

“The client loves the direction,” Mrs. Sinclair said. “Engagement is up, the new in-store materials are performing well, and they want to keep pushing the neighborhood angle. Now we need the next phase.”

“What if we stop staging the coffee?” Claire asked.

Avery looked over. “Meaning?”

Claire looked through the photographs from the client. “There are handwritten specials on the board. The tables don’t match. Half the regulars use the same mugs every morning. Why are we hiding that?”

Avery leaned forward. “Because that’s the familiar part.”