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Learn that she never smiles at me. Not really. Just offers the same professional pleasantness she gives everyone else, like we're strangers passing through each other's space and nothing more.

I tell myself that's fine. That I'm not here to make friends. Just to watch. Just to be sure.

Just to fail differently this time if it comes to that.

Three weeks after my first trip to the supermarket, I'm there on a Thursday evening picking up bread and milk when I see him.

Paige is at register four. I'm three customers back, half-hidden behind a display of seasonal candy, watching her scan. The man approaches from behind her. Slips into the narrow space between her register and the wall like he has every right to be there.

Tall. Clean-cut. Expensive watch. Smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Paige goes completely still.

"Hey, babe," he says, loud enough for the customers to hear. Affectionate. Possessive. "Thought I'd pick you up after your shift."

"Cole." Her voice is flat. "I told you I'm closing tonight. I won't be done until ten."

"So, I'll wait." He leans against the counter, blocking her in. "We need to talk anyway."

The elderly woman at Paige's register glances between them, uncertain.

Paige forces a smile. "Let me finish with my customers first."

Cole doesn't move. Just stays there in her space, watching her work, his presence a statement nobody asked for.

I watch the way Paige's shoulders tense. Watch the way she avoids brushing against him when she reaches for bags. Watch the elderly woman pay quickly and leave faster than she probably intended to.

The next customer in line, a middle-aged man with a full cart, takes one look at the situation and moves to a different register.

Cole notices. Grins like he's won something.

"Slow night?" he asks Paige.

"Not really." She scans a jar of pasta sauce without looking at him. "You're blocking the lane."

"I'm standing with my girlfriend." He reaches out and tucks a loose curl behind her ear. She flinches and tries to hide it. Can't completely. "Is that a crime?"

I'm moving before I've consciously decided to.

Set my basket down at Paige's register. Meet Cole's eyes without blinking.

"You're actually blocking the lane," I say mildly. "She's got customers."

Cole straightens. Looks me over, noticing the tattoos, the leather cut without patches, the stillness from years of practice that looks either harmless or dangerous depending on what someone wants to see.

He chooses harmless.

"It will just be a minute," he says dismissively.

"It won't." I place the bread on the conveyor belt. "Because she's working, and you're leaving."

Paige goes very still. I can feel her staring at me, but I don't look away from Cole.

Cole's smile sharpens. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"And who the hell are you?"