Jamie showed up first, shoes kicked off at the door like she owned the place. Erin followed with a six-pack; she claimed she didn’t know how to choose responsibly. Harper brought the napkins Savannah hadn’t remembered to buy. Someone from promotions arrived with a half-eaten cake and an apology that made everyone laugh.
Music filled the space. The apartment felt warm and loud and alive in a way Savannah’s never did.
It should have been enough.
It wasn’t.
She hovered in the kitchen, refilling bowls that didn’t need it, wiping a counter that was already clean. She’d cleaned more than usual. Picked a playlist she hoped everyone would like. Lit the stupid candle that made the apartment smell softer, like a place someone might want to stay.
She told herself she wasn’t waiting for anyone.
That was a lie.
She hadn’t seen Tilly since the argument. Not really. Not without the careful distance they’d both pretended was fine. The one that came after Tilly had found the note on her phone. After Savannah had tried to explain. After Tilly hadn’t believed her.
Tilly is a problem.
She could still hear the way Tilly’s voice had gone quiet when they said it back to her. Not accusing. Worse. Hurt.
Savannah had snapped before she could stop herself.‘If you don’t want to keep doing this, then don’t.’ ‘If you’re looking for a reason to leave,then leave.’
Tilly hadn’t left.
They’d just said they needed a break. A little space.
Savannah had nodded, as if that didn’t feel like the same thing.
The elevator dinged in the hallway.
Her stomach dropped before she could stop it.
She looked up too fast. Then forced herself to look away when it wasn’t Tilly, just a couple from upstairs heading somewhere else, laughing like the night had never broken their heart.
Savannah stepped back into the kitchen, pressing her fingertips to the counter until the tightness in her chest eased enough to breathe.
She hadn’t thrown the party for Tilly.
She’d thrown it because silence felt dangerous.
The clock on the cable box blinked 11:42.
Eighteen minutes until midnight.
She nodded along as Harper launched into a story about a reporter who had tried to shoot a presser while eating a granola bar.
“Did not even stop chewing,” Harper said, incredulous. “Just crumbs everywhere. Like, sir. We are live.”
Jamie laughed from the couch. “That’s what happens when you don’t respect the craft.”
Erin groaned. “Please tell me this wasn’t one of ours.”
Harper shrugged. “Unclear. But the PIO looked like she was about to commit a crime.”
Savannah laughed when she was supposed to, glass warm in her hand, eyes flicking back toward the door anyway.
When the door finally opened again, Savannah didn’t turn.
She couldn’t.
