Tilly shot her a look. “Let me have five minutes. Just five.”
Savannah laughed. “Okay, fine. Five.”
They hit a red light, and Tilly gestured toward the corner. “You hungry?”
Savannah blinked. “Always.”
“There’s that place by the station,” Tilly said. “The one with the breakfast sandwiches that are way too good for how sketchy it looks.”
Savannah grinned. “The one everyone swears made half the station sick last winter?”
“That’s never been proven,” Tilly said. “And yet people keep going back.”
Savannah laughed. “That’s journalism for you.”
“I survived,” Tilly added. “Probably.”
Savannah snorted. “High praise.”
They pulled over a few minutes later, the place already busy with other crews in jackets and station logos. Savannah leaned against the car while Tilly ordered, both of them talking over each other now, replaying moments from the shoot.
“Did you see that angle when the ladder truck pulled away?”
“Yes,” Savannah said. “I was trying not to smile on camera.”
“You failed,” Tilly said. “Just a little.”
“Good,” Savannah said. “They should know we’re excellent.”
Their food arrived, greasy and perfect, and they sat on the curb for a minute, unbothered by appearances.
Savannah took a bite and sighed. “Okay. Worth the risk.”
Tilly laughed. “Told you.”
They ate in comfortable silence for a beat, then Savannah said, quieter now, “It feels good. Working like that.”
Tilly nodded. “Yeah. It does.”
They exchanged a look, warm and charged in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with trust.
Savannah wiped her hands on a napkin and stood. “Come on. Let’s get back before the desk starts wondering where we disappeared to.”
Tilly tossed their trash and followed her to the car. “Let them wonder. We earned it.”
Savannah smiled as she climbed back in.
They had earned it.
And they both knew it.
Forty Three
It had been five days since Christmas.
Five days since Tilly woke up in Savannah’s bed the day after Christmas.
Five days since Savannah had stood in her kitchen in socked feet, hair still damp, and said, a little breathless, “We can try. Slow. If you want.”
