He hated that he knew enough to wonder.
“Thank you,” he said.
Marissa set the tray on the corner of his desk.
Soup.
Bread.
Coffee.
Then she noticed the handwritten calculations beside his laptop.
Adrian instinctively turned the page over.
The movement was small.
But Marissa saw it.
Her eyes lifted briefly toward his.
For one uncomfortable second, neither of them spoke.
Then Adrian said, “Marissa.”
“Yes?”
“How long have you been commuting from Quincy?”
Her expression changed slightly.
“Since I started here.”
“Is it difficult?”
“No.”
The answer arrived too quickly.
Adrian waited.
Marissa gave a small smile.
“Sometimes the morning connections aren’t ideal. But I manage.”
“I’ve noticed you’ve never been late.”
“I try not to be.”
He nodded.
Another silence formed.
He wanted to offer her money.
It would have been easy.
Painfully easy.
He could have opened the drawer beside him, taken out several hundred dollars,
