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I rub a hand idly over the center of my chest, appreciating the warmth that seems to have taken up residence there. An instinctual thread of awareness, soft and ever-present. A thread I might tug and follow all the way to her.

I won’t, of course, even if that gentle pull stays with me whenever we’re apart, and even if I never truly stop worrying about her and looking forward to the next time I’ll get to see her.

Fortunately, I don’t have long to wait as my cell buzzes with an incoming call. It’s reception with a notification that Nora’s stopped by for lunch, and some of the tension I’ve been carrying in my neck and shoulders slides away.

Smiling to myself like the lovesick fool I am, I turn and head toward the door so I can meet her at the elevator.

Nora steps out carrying a pizza box and with a wide smile when she sees me waiting there for her.

“Bertrosa’s,” she says, lifting the box. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving.”

We settle in to the seats in front of the windows, grab our slices, and Nora launches into a story about a book club of little old ladies who just put in a big order for a series of erotic romance novels, followed by one about a new fantasy author who’s hosting his first book signing at the store next week.

This Nora is so different from the woman I met that first day at the Bureau. So different from our first date. When I see her like this—comfortable and relaxed and shining with happiness—it’s like peeking through a window to see the woman she must have been before Sorenson.

The woman I hope she’ll have the freedom to be for the rest of her life.

When she catches me admiring, she pauses and raises a brow.

“I’m being boring with all the work talk, aren’t I?”

Shaking my head, I reach over and give her knee a reassuring squeeze. “Not at all. I know how much you enjoy your work, and I love listening to you talk about it.”

She shrugs. “It’s alright, I suppose. It’s a job.”

There’s something lurking beneath the lightness of her tone. “Is it not where you want to be?”

Nora frowns a little, takes a sip of water, and seems to contemplate what she wants to say for a few seconds before finding the words she needs to.

“If I’m being honest? I really love Tandbroz, but I’ve been thinking about going back to school.”

She seems almost shy about it, like she’s not quite certain how I’ll respond. Other than mentioning that she dropped out of college when she moved to DC with Sorenson, she hasn’t talked all that much about any desire to go back. But from the tentative, hopeful look on her face, it’s easy to guess it’s still something important to her.

“Are you?” I ask, setting down my food and turning to give her my full attention. “What would you like to study?”

“I was a business major. Nonprofit management and communications, specifically. I don’t know if any of those credits would transfer anywhere, though, or how it would feel to be back on some campus now that I’m older.”

Little lines of thought and worry spring up between her brows.

“We could figure all of that out.”

Those lines disappear, replaced by a wry smile. “We?”

“Yes,we.Like it or not, little siren, I’m your boyfriend now. So that means I get to help you out with whatever it is you need to do to achieve the things you want to.”

“My boyfriend,” she murmurs. “Seems like kind of a weird word for what we are, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe,” I say with a shrug. “But I admit it’s growing on me.”

She laughs at that, and we steer back toward the topic at hand. We talk about a few of the schools in Seattle she’s considering, along with some good online programs. She doesn’t mention going back to her college in Dallas, or looking at other schools outside the area, but I try not to read too much into that or assume it means more than it does about why she’d be interested in staying here in this city.

We finish eating, and I get up to throw away our plates. When I turn around, Nora has stood up as well. She’s paused in front of my desk, staring down at the wood-carved ship.

“This is you?” she asks, running a finger along the wooden tentacles coming up from the carved water.

“Indeed,” I murmur, running my lips over her neck and trying not to let myself be run away with any fantasies.