Morning came early. Too early.
Sunny's bark cut through sleep. Once. Twice. High-pitched. Insistent.
Noah opened his eyes. She was sitting on the bed, staring at him. Her tail a golden blur.
He smiled. "Morning."
She lunged forward. Licked his face—his nose, his chin, his cheek. Her whole body wiggled with the effort of her tail.
"You ready to go out?"
She barked. Loud. Right in his face.
Noah scooped her up. Her fur was warm from sleep, soft against his palms. He carried her downstairs, feeling her heartbeat quick and excited against his chest.
Lydia's door was still closed. Quiet behind it.
His jacket hung by the door—he grabbed it on the way out. Slipped on shoes. Took Sunny outside.
The air was cold. Sharp enough to sting his lungs. The sun wasn't even up yet. Just a faint glow on the horizon, gold bleeding into grey.
They walked. Sunny ran ahead, her ears flopping. Came back. Ran ahead again. Her paws left small prints in the damp grass.
Noah's mind drifted. The meeting. Today. Three PM.
He looked down at her. "He shouldn't come."
She barked.
A smile tugged at his mouth. "Yeah. I thought so too."
They walked back. Noah fed Sunny, watched her attack the bowl like she'd never eaten before. Then headed upstairs.
The shower was too hot but he stayed under it. Let the water beat against his shoulders. His neck. Let it wash everything away.
After, he dressed. The navy suit—sharp lines, perfect fit. White shirt, crisp and clean. His favorite tie, the one Clara said made him look "dangerous."
Downstairs, he cracked eggs into a pan. Toast popped. Coffee brewed—the smell filled the apartment, rich and dark and familiar.
He went to Lydia's door. Knocked. "Lydia. Breakfast."
A groan from inside. "What time is it?"
"Time to get up."
"Go away."
He opened the door anyway. "Now."
She stumbled out a few minutes later. Hair everywhere. Eyes barely open. She picked up Sunny, kissed her head, collapsed into a chair at the table.
Ate in silence for a bit. Then looked at him. "I like the new you."
Noah smiled. "You're unbearable in the morning."
She grinned. "So are you."
He stood. Grabbed his coat. "I have to go. Clean up when you're done."
She nodded. Mouth full of toast.
"See you tonight."
He hugged Sunny. Buried his face in her fur for a second. Then left.
---
At work, Sarah was in the lobby. She looked up when he walked in. Smiled.
"Morning. You look good."
Heat crept up his neck. "Thanks."
"See you later."
"Yeah. See you."
The elevator was empty. Good. He rode it up, got off on his floor. But instead of going straight to the office, he detoured to the bathroom.
Stood at the mirror. Adjusted his tie. Smoothed his hair.
Yeah. I do look good.
A smile pulled at his mouth. Small. Private.
Then he headed to the office.
Clara and Elias were by the window, coffee in hand. Watching people on the street below. Making comments. Laughing at something.
"Morning," Noah said.
They turned. Both smiled. "Morning."
They talked about work. Tasks for the day. Deadlines. Client calls. Then settled into it.
At noon, they went to lunch. A cafe two blocks away. The usual spot.
They talked about weekend plans. Clara's date. Elias and Mark's apartment hunt. Office gossip—who was sleeping with who, who got promoted, who was getting fired.
Noah checked his watch. 1:43.
"I have a meeting at two. At Sterling Holdings."
Clara's expression went carefully neutral. Too carefully. "Sterling Holdings?"
"Yeah."
Elias smiled into his coffee. Took a slow sip.
Noah's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Clara tilted her head. Innocent. "Nothing. Just... wondering if we know anyone who works there."
"Like who?"
"Oh, I don't know." She glanced at Elias. "Maybe someone... tall. Dark suit. Very put-together."
Elias nodded. "Smart too. Very successful, from what I hear."
Noah's face warmed. "Stop."
Clara grinned. "Stop what? We're just making conversation."
"The meeting's with Henry. Not—" He stopped himself. "Just Henry."
"Right. Of course." Clara's smile widened. "Just Henry."
Elias smirked into his cup.
Noah's phone buzzed. Jared.
drinks tonight. come.
Noah typed back: after my meeting
He looked at the time again. 1:47.
"I should go."
Stood. Grabbed his things. His laptop. His folder.
"Good luck," Clara said. Her tone was innocent. Her eyes weren't.
"Thanks."
Elias waved. Still smiling.
---
Traffic was heavy. Midtown always was. Horns. Taxis cutting each other off. Pedestrians jaywalking.
Noah went over the presentation in his head. Key points. Numbers. Projections. What Henry would ask. What he'd answer.
Traffic slowed at a red light.
His mind drifted—unwanted, automatic—to Atlas.
Not the cold Atlas from the breakup. The Atlas from yesterday. That calm smile. The way his eyes had softened when he looked at Noah. The nervous habit with his phone—thumb brushing the edge, once, twice. A habit Noah had forgotten. Now remembered.
Warmth spread through his chest. Familiar. Unwanted.
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Knuckles went pale.
Stop. Professional meeting. Nothing else.
The light turned green. He drove.
Sterling Holdings rose above him. Glass and steel. Sleek. Modern. Intimidating in the way expensive things always were.
He parked. Took the elevator up. The building was quiet. Too quiet. Just the hum of air conditioning. The soft ding of elevator floors.
43rd floor.
He found the conference room. Door open. Light spilling out.
The conference room carried the quiet weight of money—matte wood, glass, soft white light that hummed more than it shone.
Outside the windows, the city's pulse moved in blurs of silver. Inside, time slowed to the rhythm of key taps and pen scratches.
He stepped inside.
Only Henry was there. Laptop open. Papers spread across the table. He looked up. Smiled.
"Noah. Good to see you."
Noah's gaze swept the room automatically. The empty chairs along the sides. The seat at the head of the table—vacant.
His eyes caught there. Held for a beat too long.
He's not coming.
His chest did something. Tightened. Then loosened. Relief? Disappointment? Both? Neither? He couldn't name it. Didn't want to try.
He looked away. Crossed to the table. Set his laptop down. The sound too loud in the quiet room.
"You too."
They shook hands. Noah sat. Pulled out his folder. Opened it.
Henry was already talking. About timelines. About projections. About what the client wanted.
Noah nodded. Listened. Pulled up the presentation on his laptop.
But part of him—a small, stupid part—kept glancing at the door.
Waiting.
Even though he'd told himself not to.
Even though it was better this way.
Even though—
Focus.
He focused.
They worked.
Henry pointed to a chart on his screen. "These numbers—third quarter projections. The client wants to see growth, but realistically—"
The door opened.
Noah's head came up. Automatic.
Footsteps. Measured. Certain.
Atlas.
He walked in like he owned the place. Maybe he did.
Something in Noah's chest fluttered. Quick. Unwanted. He looked down at his laptop. Fast.
"Good afternoon." Atlas's voice was calm. Even. No rush.
He crossed the room. Jacket unbuttoned. Sleeves crisp. His posture was loose. Relaxed.
His eyes swept the table. Henry. The reports. Then Noah.
Just for a second. Their eyes met.
Noah's breath caught. His pulse kicked up.
Atlas looked away first. "Sorry I'm late."
He wasn't sorry. Everyone knew it.
Henry flipped through his notes, phone vibrating.
"Excuse me. I need to take this," he said, stepping away. "Keep going, I'll be back."
The door clicked shut behind him. His absence felt louder than the hum of the air vent.
Noah shifted in his chair, the edge of a printed report aligned with the grain of the table.
Atlas moved closer—unhurried, deliberate. He sat beside him, not across.
He didn't bring a computer; he never did. His hands rested easily on the table, sleeves slightly rolled, posture calm, effortless.
Noah opened the next file, voice steady.
"This section covers Sterlins' Q3 performance."
Atlas leaned, just enough to glance at the columns. "Margins improved. Slightly. But growth rate's flat."
"Two-point-three percent," Noah replied. "They're stabilizing, not expanding."
Atlas's mouth curved, almost a smile. "Because they redirected budget to PR."
"Optics over efficiency," Noah said.
Atlas's low laugh barely carried across the table. "Dumas style."
Noah's lips pressed into the ghost of a smile. "You said that last quarter too."
"I was right then."
"You still are."
The silence stretched. Neither filled it.
They moved together. Unconscious. Practiced.
Atlas tapped the margin of one report with his pen. "Here—vendor contracts. The ratio's off."
Noah leaned in. Their shoulders found the same line but didn't touch. "They duplicated supplier IDs. Two entries for the same firm."
Atlas nodded once. "Inflated reports."
"Artificially," Noah said.
Atlas's tone softened. "We'll need to bring that up tomorrow."
"Better to be upfront now than fix it later."
Atlas's gaze stayed on him a moment longer than necessary. "You always said that."
Noah didn't look up. "Still believe it."
Atlas leaned back, thoughtful, eyes tracing Noah's reflection in the glass wall more than the charts.
"You're good at this."
Noah's fingers hesitated over the keyboard, then kept typing. "Someone had to."
The corner of Atlas's mouth lifted—a tired, honest warmth. "Always were."
Henry's voice reappeared from the doorway. "Sorry—urgent call. You two continue. I'll read your notes later."
He left again. The door clicked; quiet sealed the room shut.
Atlas stayed close. He watched Noah's focus narrow on the numbers, the way his brow eased when a line balanced.
When he reached for a page, his hand crossed into Noah's airspace—close enough that the warmth of his skin disturbed the still air between them.
He stopped short, the paper's edge trembling slightly.
"Sorry," he murmured.
Noah didn't flinch. "You didn't touch me."
Atlas's throat shifted with a quiet swallow. "Didn't need to."
The air felt different now—thicker, but not uncomfortable.
Noah turned another page. "We can note it under risk mitigation."
Atlas nodded. "Do it."
They worked in rhythm. No wasted words.
When Noah typed, Atlas's breathing slowed. Matched his pace.
After a while, Atlas leaned closer again, looking at the chart.
"You adjusted the forecast variable?"
"Yeah," Noah said. "Market shift."
"Smart."
"It's part of the job."
"Not everyone does it like you."
Noah didn't answer. The screen's reflection caught both their faces for a second—one focused, one quietly studying.
Atlas inhaled, a subtle note of something new cutting through the sterile air.
"You changed your cologne."
"Yeah."
"Used to be cedar."
"I like change."
Atlas smiled, soft and knowing. "Yeah. I can see that."
The air eased.
Balanced. Like an equation finally settling.
The report finished itself. Noah scrolled, saved, the sound of keys fading into stillness.
Atlas straightened, eyes flicking to the monitor—where the desktop blinked into view.
A small dog curled in a red blanket, asleep.
"That your dog?"
"Sunny."
"Cute."
"She is."
Atlas reached for his notes. "Send me the update when it's finalized."
"You'll have it tonight."
He turned, one hand on the door.
"Don't rush it," he said quietly.
"I won't."
Their eyes met. Just for a second.
The door shut behind him.
Noah sat still. The hum of the vent filled the space Atlas left behind.
The screen glowed with the sleeping dog and a line of open cells waiting for new data.
He just breathed—slow, steady, aligned.
Noah gathered his things. Laptop. Folder. Pen.
Noah nodded. Left.
---
In the car, he thought about the meeting. The way they'd worked together. Easy. Natural. Like no time had passed.
A smile tugged at his mouth. Small. Involuntary.
Stop.
But it stayed.
---
The bar was loud. Music. Voices. Laughter.
Marcus, Jared, Alex, and Sam were at a table in the back. Beers already half-empty.
Noah walked over. "Hey."
They looked up. All smiled.
"Noah!" Marcus raised his beer.
Alex grinned. "You look good, man. Like, really good."
Noah's face warmed. "I'm good. Yeah."
He sat. Ordered a beer.
They talked. Stupid stuff. Someone's terrible date. Someone's worse boss. A story about a guy at the gym who fell off a treadmill.
Everyone had something. Some ridiculous thing that happened. The others commented. Laughed. Roasted each other.
Noah told them about Sunny. How she learned to open doors by jumping. How she stole his socks. How she slept upside down.
Marcus pulled out his phone. Scrolled. "Dude. Lydia tags you in like ten posts a day."
He showed Noah. Photos. Videos. Sunny playing. Sunny sleeping. Sunny with Noah.
Noah laughed. "She's obsessed."
"She's not wrong though. You and that dog are cute as hell."
"Shut up."
They kept going. More stories. More laughs. Sam talked about his new job. Jared complained about his landlord. Marcus showed photos of a trip he was planning.
An hour passed. Maybe two.
Noah checked his watch. "I should go. Lydia's at home."
"Aww, responsible Noah," Alex teased.
"Fuck off."
They hugged. Said their goodbyes. See you soon. Text me. All that.
Noah left.
---
At home, he knocked.
Lydia opened the door.
She was holding a kitten. Grey. Fluffy. Tiny.
Sunny was at her feet. Jumping. Barking. Excited.
Noah stared. "What is that?"
Lydia grinned. "British Shorthair."
"I'm not asking what breed. Where did you get it?"
"I was walking after school. Saw him. Bought him." She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Noah blinked. Tried to process. "Did you ask Dad?"
"No." Still grinning.
Noah shook his head. Took the kitten from her hands. Looked at it. Big round eyes. Soft grey fur.
"He's really cute," Noah admitted.
Sunny barked. Loud. Jealous.
Noah handed the kitten back to Lydia. Picked up Sunny instead. "Hey, baby. I see you."
Lydia laughed. Gestured to the living room. "I got him stuff. Food. Toys. A bed."
Noah looked. Everything was scattered across the floor. Toys. Bowls. A little bed.
"You exploded the living room."
"Sunny and I were playing." She showed him videos on her phone. Sunny and the kitten. Running around. Playing.
Noah loosened his tie. Pulled it off. "What'd you name him?"
"Luna."
"Luna's a girl's name."
"He doesn't know that."
Noah smiled. Sat on the floor. Still holding Sunny. Lydia handed him Luna.
He held both. One in each arm. Sunny licked his face. Luna purred.
He looked at Lydia. "If you can't get permission, don't drag me into it."
She grinned. "I'll just move in with you."
"Dad would never allow that either." Noah laughed. "Lucky for me."
Noah set them both down. "I need to work."
Went upstairs. Changed into sweats. A t-shirt.
Came back down. Made coffee. Strong. Black.
Sat at the kitchen table. Opened his laptop. Pulled up the reports.
Reviewed everything. Added the new information. Notes from the meeting. Atlas's observations. Henry's questions.
Typed it all up. Clean. Organized. Professional.
Sent it. To Henry. To Atlas.
Checked the time. 11:03.
He's probably asleep.
Closed his laptop. Went to the living room.
Lydia was on the couch. Asleep. Luna curled up on her chest. Sunny at her feet.
Noah touched her shoulder. "Lydia. Go to bed."
She mumbled something. Didn't move.
"Lydia."
"I'm sleeping here."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am."
Noah sighed. "Fine."
He picked up Sunny. She was warm. Heavy with sleep.
Luna meowed. Looked up at him.
Noah looked back. Their eyes met.
"Okay. You too."
He scooped up Luna with his other arm. Carried them both upstairs.
Set them on the bed. They immediately curled up. Close to each other.
Noah lay down beside them. Watched them.
Luna's fur was soft. Grey. Almost silver in the low light. Sunny's was gold. Wheat-colored. Warm.
They looked good together.
He smiled.
Then the meeting came back. Atlas's words. His eyes. The way they'd moved together. Unconscious. Easy.
Give it time.
He watched Luna and Sunny. Their breathing slow. Even.
Sleep found him.
Gentle.