James's hand moved first, reaching for his coffee cup with deliberate casualness. His expression shifted—the careful mask of professional distance sliding into place like a practiced routine. Kelly watched him do it, marveling at how quickly he could transform himself into someone who barely knew her.

"Sandra," James called out, his voice pitched at exactly the right level of friendly surprise. "Getting caught in this weather?"

Sandra's eyes lingered on their table for another fraction of a second before she turned toward James. Kelly forced herself to take a sip of coffee, to embody the posture of someone reviewing legal documents, to become invisible.

"Just needed caffeine," Sandra replied, moving toward the counter. There was something in her tone—a slight hesitation—that made Kelly's stomach tighten. Had she noticed something? The proximity? The way they'd been leaning toward each other like magnets?

James stood, a move that surprised Kelly. He walked toward the counter, inserting himself into casual conversation with Sandra about weekend plans and the latest office politics. His performance was flawless. He'd had months to perfect it.

Kelly kept her eyes on her phone, on the case files, but her mind was racing. This was how it would happen, she realized. Not in some dramatic confrontation, but in these small moments of near-discovery. In the way Sandra's gaze had lingered just a beat too long. In the calculation that would eventually add up to certainty.

James returned to the table after five minutes that felt like hours. He didn't sit down immediately.

"I should go," he said quietly, standing above her. "Early morning tomorrow."

Kelly nodded, understanding the message beneath the words. They were done for today. The close call had shattered the fragile sanctuary of their meeting. Sandra was at the counter now, ordering her drink, but the damage was done. The risk had become suddenly, viscerally real.

As James moved toward the door, Kelly caught the briefest glance between them—a look that contained apology, frustration, and the terrible knowledge that this was unsustainable. That every moment together was borrowed time, and time in Auburn was a currency running out.