Savannah huffed a laugh and tried to squirm away, immediately thwarted by Tilly’s arm tightening just enough to keep her there. Not trapped. Just held.
“No,” Savannah protested weakly, laughter breaking through now. “You can’t just—”
Tilly kissed the tip of her nose.
Savannah dissolved, giggling outright, face heating. She buried it against Tilly’s chest, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”
Tilly smiled against her hair. “You don’t hate it.”
“I absolutely do not hate it,” Savannah admitted, muffled. Then, quieter, “Thank you.”
Tilly didn’t answer with words. Just kissed her hair once, slow and grounding, and settled back against the pillows.
Savannah stayed tucked into them, still smiling, the last of the tension finally bleeding off.
Forty Two
Two days later, Savannah realized she hadn’t braced herself before walking into the newsroom.
The thought came halfway to her desk when she noticed she wasn’t scanning for exits or rehearsing neutral expressions. She was just… walking. Coffee in hand. Bag slung over her shoulder. Breathing normally.
Tilly was already there, leaning against the counter by the equipment lockers, camera bag at their feet. They glanced up when Savannah passed and smiled. Not big. Not careful. Just easy.
Savannah smiled back without thinking.
That was how Jamie noticed.
Jamie raised an eyebrow from across the room, the look quick but unmistakable. Savannah pretended not to see it and focused on her desk, but she could feel the heat creeping up her neck anyway.
Harper noticed too, but didn’t say anything at first. She just watched Savannah over the top of her monitor, lips pressed together like she was holding back a comment.
Savannah felt it immediately. “What?”
Harper’s mouth twitched. “Nothing.”
“That’s never true.”
Harper leaned back in her chair. “You just seem… well-rested.”
Savannah scoffed. “I slept like six hours.”
“Mmhmm,” Harper said. “And you’ve known me long enough to know that’s not what I mean.”
Savannah’s face went hot. “Harper.”
“I’m just saying,” Harper continued, far too pleased with herself, “you’ve got that glow people get when they’re not sleeping alone anymore.”
Savannah glanced around on instinct, then lowered her voice. “You cannot say things like that at work.”
Harper smiled sweetly. “I absolutely can if I don’t say anything specific.”
Savannah dragged a hand down her face. “We are coworkers.”
“And yet,” Harper said, unfazed, “you’re blushing like I just walked in on something.”
“That’s not—” Savannah stopped, sighed, then laughed quietly. “Okay. Fine. We’re… together.”
Harper’s eyebrows lifted. “Together together?”
