“Yes,” I said at the same time.
We turned toward each other.
“You thought I was irritating,” I reminded her.
“I thought you were attractive and irritating.”
“That supports my position.”
“You spilled breakfast on yourself.”
“The sandwich had structural weaknesses.”
Sophie appeared at the edge of my vision, making a subtle circular motion that meant move before the conversation became a headline.
The third interview began well.
The reporter asked about the tour, the award, and the possibility of another album. Then she turned toward Ellie.
“Ellie, were you the reason Savannah finally decided to come out?”
Ellie’s hand went still in mine.
“No,” I said.
The answer came before Sophie could intervene.
The reporter looked at me.
“But the timing—”
“My decision was mine,” I said. “Ellie did not owe me a transformation, and she is not responsible for explaining one.”
The reporter opened her mouth again.
Sophie stepped between the microphone and us.
“That’s all for this position. Thank you.”
She guided us toward the next section of the carpet.
Ellie kept walking, but her fingers had loosened around mine.
“We can leave,” I said quietly.
“We’re not leaving.”
“You don’t have to continue.”
“I need a minute.”
Sophie heard and immediately changed direction, leading us through a black curtain into a narrow service corridor.
The sudden quiet made my ears ring.
Ellie leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
