Erin’s fingers curled under Jamie’s. “I’m scared too.”
“Okay,” Jamie said. “Then we’re even.”
They looked at each other, steady now. Jamie leaned in and caught Erin’s mouth again, a slow kiss that tasted like a promise kept small on purpose, so it had room to grow. Erin met her there and let it deepen, warm and sure. Jamie felt the tremor in her own body smooth out under Erin’s hands, felt the heat rise and settle, felt the rightness of being here, finally, without pretending she didn’t want it.
When they broke apart, Erin rested her forehead lightly against Jamie’s for a breath. “Next Monday,” she said.
“Next Monday,” Jamie echoed.
Leo snored. The rain kept going. Inside the small pool of light in Erin’s living room, they stayed where they were and let the night slow its heartbeat to match theirs.
Twenty One
Morning light pushed through the blinds, weak and streaked after the night of rain. The city outside felt washed clean, but Erin wasn’t paying attention to traffic reports or weather advisories. She was thinking about the way Jamie had looked on her couch the night before, hair still damp, socks tucked under her, Leo sprawled across her thigh like he had decided she belonged.
She was supposed to be editing a briefing document. Instead, her pen had been hovering over the margin for ten minutes, drawing nothing more than a jagged line. Every time she closed her eyes she replayed the same moments: Jamie grabbing her by the hoodie, the heat of that first kiss, the halting honesty that had followed. Erin had been so sure she had ruined everything with her apologies. And then Jamie had shown up in the rain, determined to prove her wrong.
Slow. They had promised slow. Erin reminded herself of that with every flutter in her chest. Still, the word didn’t erase the truth that she wanted more than a few hushed kisses on her couch. She wanted to sit across from Jamie in the open, not pretending to be two professionals passing information. She wanted to know what it felt like to call something a date.
Her phone buzzed with an email alert, but Erin ignored it. She pulled it closer, thumb hovering over the screen as she typed and erased half a dozen drafts of a message.Dinner?Too short.Would you like to go out with me?Too much like high school.I’d like to see you again, not at a press briefing.Better, but still clumsy. None of it carried the weight of last night.
Erin leaned back in her chair, tapping the end of her pen against the desk. A memory flickered: Jamie crouched in her doorway, soaked to the skin,smiling at Leo like she had been waiting to meet him her whole life. The image was enough to make Erin laugh softly under her breath.
If words failed, maybe something else could speak for her.
By lunch, she had convinced herself it was ridiculous. By one o’clock, she had already placed the order.
The florist’s website offered roses, but that felt wrong. She scrolled past lilies, too formal, and tulips, too fleeting. She landed on an arrangement of daisies and white roses, cheerful without being overbearing. Jamie deserved color, not ceremony. The flowers would be delivered to the WCVB newsroom by late afternoon.
The note was the hardest part. Erin typed, deleted, then started again until the words looked almost right.
Ms. Garrison,
Would you do me the honor of joining me for dinner this evening?
– Erin
She hovered over the “Ms.” for a long time. Too stiff? Too much like a press release? In the end, she left it. If Jamie was going to laugh at her for being formal, she wanted it to be the kind of laughter that came with soft eyes and a hidden smile.
Erin pressed send before she could think better of it.
The rest of the day stretched impossibly long. Every time her phone lit up, her pulse skipped. She forced herself through the briefing, stumbling once over a line she knew by heart. She imagined the flowers arriving, Jamie’s coworkers circling like sharks, Jamie’s ears turning pink. She alternated between dread and anticipation until she was half convinced she had made a fool of herself.
Then the message came.
You really sent me flowers?? You know I have to face these people every day, right?
Erin’s heart stuttered. She was about to type an apology when the second message arrived.
They’re beautiful. Dinner sounds perfect.
The air left her lungs in a rush. Erin leaned back in her chair, covering hermouth with one hand as a laugh broke free. She read the message again, then again, savoring every word. Jamie had said yes.
For the first time in months, Erin’s office felt too small for her happiness. The night before had been rain and apology and fear. Today, it was daisies on a newsroom desk and the promise of something real.
She opened her planner, flipped past the week’s briefings and conference calls, and circled a blank evening. Dinner with Jamie. Not as a reporter and a PIO. Not as two people caught in a moment they couldn’t name. A date.
Slow, yes. But forward all the same.
