Page 17 of Between the Lines

He took a sip of his coffee, then said, “If this escalates—even a little—you could stay with me for a bit.”

Paige looked at him, touched by his kindness. “I appreciate that,” she said. “But I don’t think we’re there.”

“The offer comes with no strings,” he said. “It’s just available.”

“Thank you,” Paige said. “I’ll let you know if things change.”

He nodded, satisfied.

They ate for a few minutes in easy silence. The café filled slowly as the clock inched toward noon. A few college-aged kids, a couple with a stroller, an older man who sat at the small counter and worked a crossword. No one paid them any attention.

“What worries you the most about this woman?” Graham asked.

“That she thinks she knows me,” Paige said. “That, for her, watching me on TikTok translated to access. People get weird when they confuse familiarity with permission, something that happens too often online.”

“Yes,” he said. “Observation isn’t intimacy. Something I learned well at the embassy.”

“And yet, people think it is. People get this feeling like they’re entitled to your time just because they’ve followed you online.”

He nodded. “Maude is going to keep you informed?”

“She will,” Paige said. “She seems pretty methodical about it. I don’t think she’ll jump to conclusions, either. Just give me facts.”

“That’s good,” Graham said. “Just don’t brush this off because it hasn’t turned into more.”

Paige met his eyes. “I won’t.”

“Good.”

When they finished and Graham had paid the bill, they stood to leave. As they walked out, he rested his hand briefly at the small of her back. Steady. Reassuring. Protective.

Outside, Beechwood traffic rolled past without interest. Paige breathed in the warm air and felt calmer than she had yesterday.

She wanted to believe Darcy Lane was just a blip, not an impending crisis. Hopefully, Maude’s digging would turn up something useful. If nothing else, Graham was on the alert.

That was enough to make her feel like she was doing something.

She said goodbye to him with a kiss. He waited while she unlocked her car and got in, then he went to his vehicle.

She headed for home, glancing in the rearview mirror at the café, already blending into the distance. She nodded. Meeting there for breakfast had been a smart decision.

By the time Paige got home, the day had shifted into that quiet stretch where the Colony felt half-asleep. She toed off her sandals by the door, set her keys in the bowl where they belonged, left her purse next to it, and went straight to the kitchen for a glass of water.

Her laptop waited on the counter. She woke it up without sitting down, more out of habit than anything, and clicked into her email tab.

A new email awaited her and the subject line made her breath catch. Luminelle — Updated Agreement.

It had to have just come in, but Paige didn’t open it right away. She couldn’t.

She took a sip of water, leaned her hip against the counter, and gave herself a second to breathe. This was what she’d been working toward, what all the back-and-forth had been about. The clarifications, the changes she’d insisted on and refused to budge from, like control over content. Approval rights. And clear boundaries around her image and her audience.

She set her water down and open the email. It was brief and to the point.

They’d accepted her revisions. All of them. The contract was attached, clean and final. The tone was congratulatory without being over the top. Very professional. Like they did this every day.

Maybe they did—what did she know?

She read the second to last line again. All that remains is your signature.