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"She’s easy to live next to. Throws wild parties but never steals my packages."

Allison laughs. "Yet. Give her time."

Her tone shifts just slightly, teasing but protective. "Just... don’t be an idiot, Nate. She’s not like the girls you used to go for."

"I’ve noticed," I say. And I mean it.

Allison eyes me. "I would appreciate if you would keep an eye on my sister and your hands off of her, Jones. She’s too nice for a hockeyplayer, inbothsenses of the word."

Mandy blushes. I smirk and reply. "Noted."

"I’m serious!" Allison says, though she’s clearly half-teasing. "I know your type."

"And yet, you dated me," I shoot back.

She scoffs. "A mistake I’ve spent years trying to erase. Just kidding. You were pretty nice back then."

"You’re welcome," I say dryly.

Mandy rolls her eyes and ends the call. "Well, that was... Allison."

"She hasn’t changed much."

"Nope. Still bossy. Still dramatic. Still protective."

We fall into silence again, but it’s not awkward. Just thoughtful.

She stands, taking her bowl to the sink. "Anyway, I should get going. I’ve got work in the morning."

I follow her to the door.

"Thanks again, Nate. For tonight. For the room. For... being so accommodating."

I don’t know what to say, so I just nod.

She smiles, then disappears down the hallway.

I watch her go.

And for the first time, I’m not just wondering what it would be like to kiss her, for real this time. I’m wondering how long I can last without doing it.

Chapter ten

Mandy

"You’ve got ten minutes before the partner check-in," Richard warns as he passes by my desk, coffee in hand, tie already loosened like he’s been here since sunrise.

"I’m ready," I reply, clicking out of my notes and straightening the collar of my blazer. I’m wearing my go-to confidence outfit… neatly pressed black slacks, a soft blush blouse, and the small gold hoops that make me feel like I have my life together.

My desk is tidy, laptop open, a blue gel pen poised beside a lined notepad with a dozen bullet points about today's case review. Organized and efficient, just how I like it.

It’s a calm, focused rhythm in the office this morning, with fluorescent lights humming, and keyboard clacks in sync with murmured calls behind glass conference room doors. Associatesin fitted suits zip past junior associates like me with an air of seasoned importance. But I hold my own. I belong here.

I pass a quick smile to Rachel from HR, who’s balancing a tray of waters with her elbow while texting. "You're a machine," I say.

She grins. "You say that like it’s a bad thing. You ready for Wilkins?"

"As I’ll ever be."