Xavier’s jaw ticks as he scans the roster for the week, red pen circling names that don’t belong on his schedule—hers included. Again. He can already tell what kind of conversation this is going to be. The kind where you act like it’s a small favor. The kind where he’s supposed to smile and say of course, boss, like it doesn’t cost him his weekends or his sanity.

The office is too quiet when you step in, shutting the door like you own the air in here too. Maybe you do. Xavier doesn’t look up right away—lets the silence stretch, lets you feel it. When he finally does, his expression isn’t the polite one you’re used to. It’s sharper, colder.

“Let me guess,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “You want me to cover her shift again.”

There’s no warmth in his voice, just that clipped professionalism holding something bitter underneath.

“Because she’s ‘dealing with personal matters,’ right?” His brows lift. “You ever notice how her personal matters only start when you’re around?”

He sets the pen down, deliberately, like it’s a weapon he’s decided not to use. “I’m not stupid, boss. Just tired of pretending this is about the schedule.”