“Fair.” She sighs, and I try not to think too hard about how tired she sounds. The kind of tired that sits heavy in your bones. She‘ s not wrong, though. Growing up surrounded by sisters basically turned me into a walking, talking guard dog. Always watching. Always ready to step in.
“I’m being immature,” she adds quietly. “This is all so stupid. But I’ll call her, I guess. I just—” Her voice dips lower. “I worry, too. She wanted that part of her life buried. Deep, And now I’m terrified this mess will make her revisit shit that doesn’t need revisiting.”
I don’t say anything. Tessa doesn’t need me to fix it. She just needs space to breathe through it.
But I’m listening.
And maybe I’m selfish, but every time she talks about Emilia, it makes me want to know her more. Not the picture–perfect version she tries to paint, never shaken, never hurt. Her.
I want to know what makes her laugh when no one’s watching.
I want to know why she collapsed into me the way she did when that article came out like I was her only lifeline.
I want to know why she won’t let me in.
Or maybe… why I keep stepping back the second she tries.
But I already know that answer. And I try not to think about it.
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There’s a long pause, and I almost think she’s hung up. But then, finally her voice comes through, quieter this time.
Tessa, being Tessa, swerves the conversation in another direction. One that makes my blood boil.
“Lyle ditched me.”
Ah. There it is.
I exhale, rolling my shoulders back. “That asshole,” I mutter.
Tessa lets out a breathy laugh, but there’s no real humour in it. “Yeah, well. I’m trying really, really hard not to be mad about it. But it’s whatever. It’s not like it makes a difference – I would’ve just gone home and kept working anyway. At least here, I’ve got free coffee and a half–decent view.”
She says it like it’s no big deal, like she’s fine. But I know her too well.
I open my mouth to say something, but before I can, she rushes ahead. “Anyway, I should go, I’ll call Emilia later. I’m just being silly. And…” She pauses. “Just be there for her, okay? Em’s never had anyone stay when everything goes to shit.”
—
And before I can promise her that I will before I can say anything – true to form, she hangs up before I can get a single word in.
Classic Tessa. Always saying the right thing, right before she disappears.
I stare at the screen for a moment, thumb hovering over the call button.
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She’s never had anyone stay.
She does now. Whether she knows it or not.
So I push off the railings and run a hand through my hair.
Time to do some grovelling.
TESSA
My head is pounding. Like, heartbeat–in–my–skull kind of pounding.
Hours spent hunched over a computer will do that to you. When the first set of migraines hit, I grabbed some‘ Tylenol, swallowed it dry, and threw on my reading glasses like a grandma with a grudge.
–
Ana from Legal? Probably curled up in bed, dreaming of spa days and balanced schedules – AKA she’s my polar opposite and has a life to live, probably tucked in bed, asleep by 12:58 AM – so she has no time to respond to my emails.
Meanwhile, I’m still here.
Alone.
Again.
Whatever.
I stretch and let out a yawn. My desk is a disaster–coffee cups, highlighters, Post–its with half–written thoughts and tomorrow’s to–do list.
- Make amends with Emilia.
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- Contact her family’s lawyers.
- Get her family photos copyrighted.
I seriously do not get paid enough, as a best friend and PR manager. Sometimes, it feels like I work ten different jobs at once with absolutely nothing to show for it. Well, except in the Emilia department, she’s the best person in the world when she actually tells me shit.
All the cubicles are dark. Everyone else left hours ago. But me? I’m still clinging to the glow of my screen like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
In a way, it kinda is and that’s sad as hell.
I try not to think too much about Lyle, but I can’t help it.
He’s awful. Charming, cocky, and completely toxic. The kind of man who leaves a mess everywhere he goes – and somehow, I still open the door when he shows up.
It started back when I was just the over–eager intern with too much ambition and not enough sense. One flirt turned into a kiss, then into his bed. One night became two. Then it became… something that wasn’t quite nothing, but definitely wasn’t something.
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