“Hey, Mom.” She set the phone on the counter, hitting speaker so she could work with her hands.
Her mom immediately picked up on her tone. “Well, don’t you sound chipper.”
Jamie grinned at her reflection, brushing a loose wave into place. “Do I?”
“Mm-hm. What’s the occasion?”
Jamie hesitated, then tried for casual. “I’ve got dinner plans.”
Her mom’s hum was half amusement, half curiosity. “Dinner plans. With anyone I know?”
“Mom,” Jamie groaned, though the laugh behind it gave her away.
“I’m just asking. Last I heard, you were working every hour of the day.Now suddenly you’re chipper and off to dinner. That sounds like something worth asking about.”
Jamie twisted another section of hair, biting back the full smile tugging at her. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Which means it’s definitely a big deal,” her mom countered.
“Mom…”
Her mom’s voice softened, and Jamie could almost see her sitting at the kitchen counter back in Colorado, elbows propped, chin resting on her hand. “Honey, I’m glad. It’s been a long time since you sounded like this.”
Jamie paused, the curling iron dangling from her hand. “Like what?”
“Hopeful. Excited. Like you’ve got something to look forward to that isn’t just work.”
Jamie swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. “Well. Maybe I do.”
Her mom didn’t press. She never did when Jamie’s voice caught like that. Instead, she asked, “So tell me about them.”
Jamie set the iron down and leaned her palms against the sink. Her reflection was flushed, her smile impossible to suppress. “Her name’s Erin. She’s with the police department, public information officer. We met at a press conference.”
“Oooh. An officer,” her mom teased, not skipping a beat. She hadn’t the first time Jamie told her she liked women, either.
Jamie rolled her eyes. “PIO. She’s not arresting anybody.”
“Still. Uniform-adjacent. That’s something.”
Jamie laughed, shaking her head. “You sound like Harper. She keeps trying to turn this into a romance novel.”
“And she’s wrong?”
Jamie hesitated. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s dinner. It’s casual.”
Her mom’s voice dipped into that gentle teasing tone Jamie had grown up with. “Do you usually spend this much time picking out sweaters for casual dinners?”
Jamie glanced at the heap of rejected outfits on her bed and groaned. “Okay, fine. Maybe it’s not just dinner.”
“That’s my girl.”
Jamie sat on the edge of the tub, curling her legs beneath her. “It’s just… it feels different, Mom. I don’t know how else to say it. With Dylan, it was always heavier. Like every step forward came with a weight strapped to my ankle. This…” she exhaled slowly. “This feels light. Like I can breathe.”
Her mom stayed quiet a moment. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, honey. Someone who makes you feel like you can breathe.”
Jamie blinked back the sudden sting in her eyes. “Yeah.”
“Does she?”
