Page 38 of Breaking News

“You mean the recliner that Owen and Sarah havesoclearly done it on?”

“Right?Did he think he was being subtle?” Jill laughed, and just like that, the weight of the last few minutes began to lift a little. Our conversation continued, shifting to speculation about what really went down between Owen, Sarah, and the high school football coach a couple of years ago. Were the rumors on The Concerned Citizens of Woodvale true? Had he really punched the guy? We decided we’d have to get him drunk and ask him about it sometime.

She hinted she had more questions for him, but she wouldn't disclose them to me.

For God knows how long, Jill and I talked and laughed and snacked on the fruit strips my kids had rejected, tearing them in half and rating the flavors. Time slipped by without either of us realizing it—until I noticed a bluish tint to the light outside my kitchen window. The sun would be rising soon.

“Jillian,” I said, turning around to look at the clock on my microwave. “It’s five-thirty in the morning.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” I turned back around in my stool, looking down at the way her naked knee was pressed against my thigh. We’d just talked all night.

No awkward silences.

No checking our phones.

Just an easy, intimate conversation that never felt forced or unnatural.

My eyes drifted to the dress on the stool beside her. “Is your dress dry yet?”

She reached over and squeezed the fabric. “Not quite.”

She accepted my offer to toss it in the dryer for her, so I took it into the laundry room off the kitchen and did just that. While we waited for it to dry, we cleaned up our bowls and I put away the photo albums, smiling at the way Jill hummed as she wiped the counter with a paper towel.

When everything was cleaned up, I leaned against the laundry room door with my hands in my pockets. “Are you going to stay and sleep, or do you feel ready to drive?”

“I think I’m just going to go home,” Jill said, running her fingers through her hair. The bottom of the t-shirt lifted, but I kept my eyes locked on her face. “I mean, I’ve had hours to sober up.”

“Yeah, I think you’re good,” I said, pushing off from the doorframe to check on her dress. It wasn’t completely dry, but she’d at least be able to semi-comfortably slip back into it now. She changed in the bathroom and then returned to the kitchen, carefully placing the folded Panama City Beach t-shirt on the island.

I followed her to the door so I could disengage the alarm, a tightness forming in my chest—like this was the end of something special. Something I might never have again with anyone else.

“Thank you for letting me hang out while I sobered up,” Jill said, slipping her feet into her shoes as I opened the front door. She picked up her purse. “This was exactly what my soul needed.”

With one hand on my heavy oak door and the other in the pocket of my jeans, I let out a quiet chuckle. “Your soul needed Cocoa Pebbles and gossip about my neighbors’ romantic history?”

“No,” Jill said with a grin as she stepped over the threshold. “My soul needed an all-nighter with Graham Harlowe. I feel shockingly rested.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly feeling dry, and glanced up at the hazy, pale gray sky beyond the suburban rooftops. And then, bringing my eyes back down to her face, I said, “I know what you mean. I’m feeling pretty energized myself. Who needs coffee when you’ve got Jillian Taylor?”

She pulled her golden hair out from beneath the strap of her purse and snapped her fingers. “That’s it. That’s gotta be the new WWTV tagline.”

We both laughed, and she stepped forward to hug me. I wrapped my arms around her body as though parting like this was completely natural for us.Okay, we’re friends who hug now. So what?

And slightly less naturally—maybe a bit awkwardly—we became friends who gave each other a casual peck on the cheek.Very European of you, Graham, I told myself.I would have been embarrassed if she hadn’t done the same.

But that was when it shifted from friendly into something… more. Still holding onto each other in that doorway in the dim morning light, our mouths hovered so close we were breathing the same air.

Breathing each other in.

Just four curious eyes, two pairs of ready lips, and one second to decide how far we wanted to take this embrace. Where was this going? Were we on the same page?

We seemed to reach the answer at the same time, drawing our foreheads close until they were touching. Bringing our lips together was a mutual surrender, and it felt inevitable, like this was the plan all along. Maybe it was. Tasting Jillian’s lips and feeling her hands sliding up my chest made me feel more awake than I’d ever felt on any given morning. Morealivethan ever before.

She let out a squeaky moan against my mouth, parting her lips to deepen the kiss as I dropped my hands lower on her hips. Desperate. Breathless. If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.

And when I remembered the roles we played in each other’s lives, it was like someone dumped a cold bucket of water on my head.

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