“I should have stayed,” Tilly continued. “Even if I was upset. Especially then.”
Savannah nodded once. “That hurt.”
“I know,” Tilly said quietly. “And I don’t want to do that again.”
They took another breath, steadied themself.
“I want to do this,” they said. “With you. Slowly. Honestly. And part of that means trusting you when you tell me what you mean, even if something else in my head is being loud.”
Savannah watched them closely, eyes searching, but not closed off.
“The note…” Tilly said, and felt their chest tighten anyway. “It did hurt. I won’t pretend it didn’t.”
Savannah’s fingers curled around her mug. She nodded. “Okay.”
“But I don’t want to argue about it,” Tilly added quickly. “I want to understand it. I want to know what you were thinking when you wrote it. What you were trying to protect yourself from.”
Savannah exhaled slowly, eyes dropping to the table.
“I wasn’t writing it for you,” Savannah said. “I was writing it so I could get my footing.”
Tilly stayed quiet.
“It was our first day working together,” Savannah went on. “I do that with new partners. I notice everything. How they move. How they talk. What they don’t say. It helps me adjust.”
She traced the rim of her mug with her thumb.
“You’re… very precise,” she said. “Very contained. And that threw me more than I expected.”
Tilly nodded slowly.
“The last word,” Savannah said, exhaling. “That was me being sloppy.”
“Sloppy how?” Tilly asked gently.
“I wasn’t callingyoua problem,” Savannah said. “I was flagging a potential friction point. Two people who both like control. Two people who don’t always say what they’re thinking.”
She looked up at them, steady now.
“I should’ve written ‘pay attention’ instead. Or ‘be careful.’ But I didn’t. And I get why that hurt.”
“Thank you for telling me,” they said. “I needed that.”
The waitress returned then, sliding plates onto the table with practiced ease. Eggs. Toast. A side of potatoes that smelled aggressively good.
“Y’all need anything else?” she asked.
Savannah shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“Enjoy,” the waitress said, already moving away.
They sat there for a second, the conversation paused but not broken.
Tilly reached for their fork, then stopped. “I’m not perfect at this,” they said. “But I’m here. And I want to keep being here. Even when it’s uncomfortable.”
Savannah’s mouth curved into something soft and real. “Me too.”
They picked up their utensils, and the tension eased just enough to let the moment settle.
