After the initial intensity of their greeting, things had settled into a rhythm that felt quite normal. This wasn't their first meeting since his return reunion, but the novelty of seeing him behind the counter still hadn't quite worn off.
"Sit, sit," Hansen said, gesturing toward their usual booth in the back corner. He didn't wait for her to ask, he was already moving toward the espresso machine. "You look like the rain caught you halfway across the street. I told you, you should have called me. I would have brought an umbrella to the curb."
Amara slipped into the booth, her coat damp and heavy. She watched him work.
"I had a ride, Hansen," she said, her voice soft. "And besides, I'm not made of sugar. I won't melt."
Hansen turned, a crooked, genuine smile playing on his lips. He brought over two mugs, one a standard black coffee for himself, and a larger, steaming cup of latte for her, complete with a messy heart etched into the foam.
