The rain beat down on the glass windows of JFK Airport with a steady rhythm, drumming out a lullaby of delays and disappointed sighs. Maya Blake sat cross-legged in a terminal chair, her laptop balanced on one knee, coffee cooling beside her. Her flight to San Francisco—her chance to finally pitch her dream design to the investors—had been delayed three times already.

  She didn’t believe in signs. But if she did, this storm felt like a bad one.

  A rustle beside her broke her focus. A man dropped into the seat across from her, guitar case at his side, a travel pillow slung around his neck. He was soaked at the edges, dark hair damp, eyes scanning the gate board with mild frustration.

  Maya tried not to notice him, but his presence was hard to ignore. There was something effortless about him. Worn leather jacket. A smile that came and went quickly, like a flicker of music only you could hear.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “You look like you’re one email away from starting a war,” he said, nodding toward her furious typing.

  She glanced up, arching a brow. “Only if that war gets my flight in the air.”

  He grinned, undeterred. “Let me guess—business trip?”

  “Architectural pitch.” She closed her laptop slowly. “And you?”

  He gestured to the guitar. “Musician. Indie stuff. Playing a show in Portland. Or was, until Mother Nature threw a tantrum.”

  “Guess we’re both grounded.”

  He held out a hand. “Julian.”

  “Maya.”

  Their hands touched—brief, warm, electric.

  She hadn’t planned on talking to anyone. She was always in motion, always building something—presentations, buildings, walls around her heart. But Julian Hart? He seemed like someone who lived in the space between plans. Like he belonged to no one but the next melody.

  “Want to grab terrible airport food while we wait?” he asked.

  Maya hesitated.

  And then—maybe because the storm outside matched the one inside her, or maybe because his smile felt like sunlight in the gloom—she nodded.

  “Why not?”

  Miss Pauline