“Perfect,” she said, a little too fast.
“Looking forward to it,” he said, and then he was gone, walking out the door with the steady confidence of a man who had no idea he’d just detonated a hormonal bomb between her thighs.
Goldie’s eyes betrayed her, greedily studying to his retreating form. His broad shoulders, the easy sway of his stride, the way his ass filled out those slacks—gods above. She snapped her notebook closed a little too hard and pushed to her feet.
At the far end of the room, Tamsin was deep in conversation with Congresswoman Idris. Idris’s rings caught the light as her hand sliced the air in emphasis, while Tamsin listened with her head tipped, expression unreadable.
“Goldie, wait a minute,” Tamsin called absently.
Goldie nodded and gave the shawl a theatrical flick, as if she’d meant to pause there all along, like a diva staging her own entrance. A little gesture, a little drama, just enough to make her feel less like a forgotten prop.
Her gaze drifted to Karen Vesuvius. The woman sat very still, a tissue crumpled between her fingers. Her eyes were rimmed red, her shoulders rigid. Guilt tugged at Goldie’s chest. Poor thing.
On impulse, Goldie crossed to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Hey. I just… I’m sorry about Mr. Truckenham. You must feel awful. Are you okay?”
Karen straightened, fixing her with a flat, unreadable look. “You’re the one who found him, aren’t you?”
Goldie blinked. “Well… yes.”
Karen’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Then you’ve done your part. Don’t expect me to commiserate. Some of us still have to clean up the mess.”
She swung her bag onto her shoulder with brisk finality and brushed past, leaving behind the faint trace of sharp perfume and chill disapproval.
Goldie froze, heat creeping up her neck.Well. Fine. Fuck me for trying to be nice.
The room had thinned into clumps of departing committee members and scattered magical paperwork. Tamsin finally broke from Idris and crossed the floor toward Goldie. Her normally effortless glide looked heavier than usual, but there was still something regal in the way she carried herself.
“I’m glad you came today,” Tamsin said with a tired smile, her hand settling warmly on Goldie’s shoulder. “I know it couldn’t have been easy, after… what you saw. It must have been dreadful.”
Goldie exhaled slowly. “It was. I’m trying not to replay it too much, but you can imagine how well that’s going.”
“Of course, darling.” Tamsin’s fingers squeezed gently, her tone smooth, compassionate. “Don’t push yourself. Just know I’m here for you, however you need. Do you want to step back for a bit?”
Goldie gave a small, tinkling laugh. “No, that would be the worst. Right now I just want to keep busy, so I’m not… spiraling.”
Tamsin studied her for a moment, the intensity in her gaze both flattering and faintly unsettling. Then she nodded, brisk but kind. “Very well. I hate to pile more onto you while you’re still processing, but… what’s your bandwidth like for helping with Solstice prep?”
Goldie’s smile turned crooked. “Oh, I can definitely find the time. I thrive in chaos.”
A genuine, tired smile touched Tamsin’s lips. She slipped a slim folder from her leather bag and set it in Goldie’s hands. “Here. Some background material I’d like you to review.” She lowered her voice, the public performance of leadership giving way to something more intimate. “I’m wondering if thedestabilization of the Grove Core could complicate everything we’re building for Solstice, and I’d love your eyes on it.”
Goldie flipped the folder open. Inside were old Green Holdings maps, accounts of past Solstice rites, and a page of handwritten notes in looping green ink.
She tapped a finger against one of the maps, her mind already racing. “Has anyone tried triangulating with the old limestone markers? Depending on the cause, we could…”
She trailed off, flushing as she caught the amused curve of Tamsin’s mouth. “Right. Of course you’ve thought of all this. Coven leader. Civic goddess. You’ve probably got binders.”
Tamsin chuckled softly and squeezed her arm. “Binders I have in spades. But you see things others don’t, Goldie. That’s why I asked you. If anything strikes you, even thesmallestanomaly, bring it to me first, yes?”
Her hand lingered a second before slipping away, the weight of trust left in its wake. She leaned in, pressing a cool, dry kiss to Goldie’s cheeks. “Blessings be, darling. I hope you know how much I value you.”
Goldie gave a shrug that felt heavier than it should. “Thank you, Tamsin.”
With a final, meaningful squeeze of her shoulder, Tamsin turned and swept from the room, leaving a faint trail of citrus-and-clove perfume in her wake.
Silence followed, thick and echoing. Goldie stood alone, the folder tucked under her arm like a shield. She could still feel the ghost of Tamsin’s hand on her shoulder, the weight of Jonah’s voice in her ear, and the insistent thrum of her own body reminding her she was not, in fact, okay.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” she muttered to the empty room, tossing her scarf over one shoulder in a defiant flick. “But I’m going to find out. And then I’m going to put sequins on it, right after I figure out what’s going on with my libido.”
