Thea refused every elaborate date option I proposed after Agreement Draft 2 received three signatures. She chose Friday evening inside the small botanical courtyard where our first honest attraction conversation had survived cold tea. I arrived carrying fresh tea, two wrapped sandwiches, and no printed agreements between us.
"You look offended by the absence of a clipboard," Thea said, settling beside me beneath the courtyard lantern.
Her rust-colored coat reached below a black fitted dress, while silver hoops caught every movement of warm light. I noticed the outfit openly because respectful restraint had never required pretending she looked ordinary.
"I feel emotionally unarmed without twelve definitions and an emergency revision process," I replied, handing her the cup marked with cinnamon.
