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“I don’t regret it,” I say simply.

She blinks, caught off guard.

Her voice is quieter when she asks, “You don’t?”

“No.” I hold her gaze. “Do you?”

She hesitates.

Then, her shoulders drop, and she exhales.

“No.”

There’s something raw in her voice. Something that makes my chest tighten.

I reach for my coffee, taking a slow sip before setting it down.

“Then let’s not overthink this.”

She gives me a look. “You always overthink things.”

I smirk. “Not about you.”

Her lips part slightly, her fingers still fidgeting with the napkin, like she doesn’t know what to do with my answer.

“Anastasia,” I say, my voice steady. “If you want to stop this—say the word.”

A long silence stretches between us. As much as I want to rush her, I know it won’t be wise. Anatasia is young and to some degree still impulsive. She should be in the prime of her life when it comes to dating, whereas I’ve already been around the block. A few times.

Then, finally, she exhales, shaking her head.

She picks up her fork, scooping a bite of eggs onto it. “I hate you,” she mutters, shoving the bite into her mouth.

I grin. “No, you don’t.”

Anastasia finishes her breakfast like she’s plotting my demise.

She stabs her eggs with unnecessary force, aggressively crunches her toast, and glares at her coffee like it personally offended her. But she doesn’t leave. Not yet.

I take my time finishing my own meal, watching her out of the corner of my eye. She’s already working herself up into another internal debate—I can see it in the way her brows pull together, the way she fidgets with her napkin, twisting it between her fingers like it’s the only thing keeping her from bolting.

I lean back, sip my coffee. Wait her out.

Finally, she exhales sharply, pushing her plate away. “I have to go.”

I raise a brow. “That eager to get away from me?”

She scowls. “I have work, Callahan. Some of us have actual schedules to keep.”

I smirk, unfazed. “And what do you call the meeting I have with Brandt in forty minutes?”

Her scowl deepens. “An ego-boosting excuse to micromanage the team?”

I chuckle, standing as she slides off the stool. “Not quite. More like a necessary evil.”

She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the way her gaze flickers over me when I stretch, my shirt pulling slightly over my abs.

I file that little reaction away for later.