Erin.
Jamie pressed her lips together, giddiness breaking through her face before she could stop it. She typed quickly.
I did. I’m really sorry I had to leave like that.
The dots appeared, disappeared, then blinked back again. Jamie’s stomach flipped like she was on a roller coaster.
Don’t apologize. It’s your job. Comes with the territory.
Jamie exhaled. She wanted to text something casual, keep it simple, but her fingers betrayed her heart.
Still. I had the best time tonight. I’d really like to do it again.
The reply was fast this time.
Me too.
Jamie’s grin was unstoppable. She tucked the phone down on the desk, screen facedown, pulse racing like she had just sprinted across the newsroom.
“You’re glowing,” Tilly said suddenly.
Jamie jolted, fumbling her laptop open wider. “What?”
“You heard me.” Their tone was clipped, eyes narrowing as they leaned back in the chair. “And I can guess why. You were with her.”
Jamie froze. “Excuse me?”
“Erin,” Tilly said, like the word itself tasted bitter. “I told you to stay awayfrom her.”
Jamie’s chest flared hot, half with embarrassment, half with indignation. She snapped her laptop shut, the sound sharp in the small room. “No, you didn’t. You made cryptic comments and shut down every time I asked. That’s not the same as telling me anything.”
Tilly’s jaw worked.
Jamie pressed forward, her voice rising. “And even if you had, it wouldn’t matter. I’m a grown woman, Tilly. I’ll see who I want. I don’t need your permission.”
Silence swelled between them, thick and suffocating. Tilly’s shoulders rose and fell like they were waging an internal war. Finally, they pushed back from the desk, running both hands through their hair.
“Fine,” Tilly said, their voice shaking. “You want to know? Here it is.”
Jamie crossed her arms, forcing herself not to flinch.
“Back in DC,” Tilly began, their tone sharp, “Erin and I had… something. It wasn’t official. We didn’t call it anything. But it was there. It started like fun. Drinks after late briefings, swapping stories, hanging around long after everyone else had gone home. Then it became nights in her apartment. Mornings where she’d leave coffee on the counter but no note. It felt like it could be something real, even if neither of us wanted to admit it.”
Jamie’s pulse quickened, but she kept her expression neutral.
“I thought we were on the same page,” Tilly continued. “I thought she cared. Maybe not the way I did, but at least enough not to make me feel like a complete idiot. Then one day, it was just over. No fight, no explanation. She shut me out completely. Wouldn’t answer my calls. Wouldn’t even look at me in press rooms. I was standing three feet away from her at a press conference, asking questions, and she acted like I was invisible.”
Jamie’s chest ached at the rawness in their voice.
“And it wasn’t just personal,” Tilly added, their voice tightening. “It bled into work. People noticed. When a PIO who used to feed you answers suddenly cuts you off, it makes you look incompetent. Like you can’t be trusted. It messed with my credibility. With my job.”
Jamie swallowed, words sticking in her throat.
“I was a fool,” Tilly said, quieter now. “She used me until it was inconvenient. Then she tossed me aside like I was nothing.”
Jamie reached out instinctively, laying a hand on the desk between them, but Tilly leaned back, arms folded tight.
“You deserve better,” they said firmly, eyes hard on hers. “You deserve someone who won’t chew you up and spit you out when they’re done.”
