I close the door and immediately forget how sentences work.
“I just… I wanted to talk about the Westland piece.”
She gestures to the chair. “Sit. Quickly. What’s wrong?”
I sit. Then don’t speak.
She waits.
I take a deep breath.
“I don’t think I should write it.”
Marie-Louise closes her eyes briefly.
“Oh for heaven’s sake.”
My stomach drops.
“Why?”
I stare at my hands.
“Because… Jack and I have sort of…” I hesitate. “Fallen for each other a bit.”
Silence.
Then Marie-Louise leans back slowly in her chair.
“First Chloe,” she says. “Now you.”
I wince slightly.
“At this rate I should probably warn AJ not to fall in love with the firefighter he’s profiling next week.”
I almost smile.
“I mean, she hates him,” Marie-Louise adds. “So the risk is probably low.”
That sounds like newsroom logic.
Then she sighs and looks at me properly.
“Are you sure?” she asks, more gently now.
I nod automatically.
“Well,” she says finally, already reaching for another file, “you did the right thing telling me.”
“I’ve typed up all my notes,” I say. “Match details, background, the academy plans, his reasons for coming here. Maybe someone from sports could just—”
“No.”
I blink. “No?”
“No,” she repeats, not even looking up yet. “Because this isn’t just about the match. This is supposed to be abouthim. Why he came here. What he’s trying to build. Why people should care.”
She finally looks up again.
