Nat stayed where she was for a second longer than she strictly needed to, mostly because moving would require acknowledging that the morning had finally reached the point where they were supposed to separate and go be useful somewhere else. Her mouth still felt warm from him, and the smug satisfaction on his face was so entirely predictable that it pulled a laugh out of her before she could summon anything resembling professional dignity. “Motivational speech,” she repeated, smoothing one fingertip along the edge of her lower lip as though assessing the quality of the alleged consultation. “Interesting. I don’t remember much speaking.”

She looked toward the hospital entrance, then back at him, and decided there was very little point pretending he had not thoroughly derailed whatever responsible transition into the workday she might otherwise have managed. The fact that she had actively encouraged the derailment was beside the point and therefore not admissible. “And you are absolutely not charging consulting fees,” she added. “You already have access to my retirement accounts, my house, and apparently unrestricted opportunities to compromise my concentration in employee parking lots. Your compensation package is more than competitive.”

Her hand came up almost automatically to straighten the front of his jacket where she had helped rumple it, though the gesture only made her smile again. He could still do this to her, which was both deeply familiar and mildly inconvenient: turn a perfectly ordinary weekday morning into something that left warmth sitting low beneath her ribs and made the hospital doors seem several hundred yards farther away than they actually were. Nat had no desire to romanticize the inconvenience. She simply liked that after everything they had already been to one another, wanting him still came so easily.

The weekend away remained tucked pleasantly in the back of her mind, no longer one of those vague plans couples made while tired and never actually scheduled. “I’ll check both calendars when I get a break,” she said, more to make the plan concrete than because he needed another reminder. “Then I’ll text Ellie and see what she can realistically do. If the three of us can locate one compatible stretch of time without invoking divine intervention, I’m booking something before either of our jobs gets clever.”

She gave him a look that was already half warning. “And I mean somewhere nice. Not somewhere you describe as having ‘character’ because the plumbing makes a noise and there’s a mounted fish in the lobby.” Her mouth curved. “Comfortable bed, decent food, nobody asking us to sign anything for school. I’m willing to be flexible on almost everything else.”

The thought of the evening made her expression soften in spite of herself. There was something charmingly ridiculous about arranging both a future escape and a private few hours later that same day, as though they were starved for each other rather than people who would be eating dinner at the same table in less than twelve hours. Nat liked that too. Familiarity had never made Trent less interesting to her; if anything, it had stripped away the need to manufacture excitement and left room for something steadier and more fun.

She finally reached down for her tote, lifting it back onto her shoulder with the reluctant practicality of someone whose seven minutes had become substantially more generous than advertised. “Tonight still stands,” she told him, giving him one last look that made the meaning clear without requiring elaboration. “Assuming our daughter doesn’t develop a sudden academic crisis at nine-thirty and you don’t decide the chicken needs a three-hour emotional journey.”

Nat opened the door, and the crisp Evergreen air came in immediately, cool enough against her warmed face to feel almost accusatory. She paused with one foot outside, looked back at him, and shook her head with a small smile. “And if anyone asks why I’m smiling, I’m telling them I had excellent coffee.” Her eyes narrowed. “Which means you’d better buy the right coffee later or you’re going to ruin my cover story.”

She leaned back in just long enough to press one last quick kiss to his mouth, lighter than the ones before it but no less affectionate. “Love you,” she said, quiet and easy, then straightened before either of them could find another reason to extend the parking-lot negotiations. Her expression shifted toward something more professionally composed as she stepped out, but the smile refused to disappear completely.

That was going to be his fault.

Nat closed the door behind her, adjusted the strap of her tote, and started toward the low stone-and-glass hospital buildings with the Evergreen foothills rising beyond them. She made it perhaps six steps before realizing she was, in fact, still smiling like an idiot.

She chose not to correct it.