Page 37 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

He glances toward Richard's office, then back at me. "Did he give you something ridiculous again?"

"Surprisingly, no. I think I'm having some sort of personal crisis."

"Before nine?"

"I like to get them out of the way early."

Dan accepts that with less concern than he probably should and continues toward the kitchen.

I stare at my screen without seeing much of it.

The problem isn't that Soren's rules are difficult. They aren't anymore. I sleep seven hours because I feel better when I do. I eat breakfast because arriving at work without running entirely on caffeine makes the morning less miserable. Saying no is still harder, but every time I do it, I discover another thing I'd been treating as my responsibility simply because nobody else wanted it.

Those are good things.

The uncomfortable part is how much I still want his approval for doing them.

I've spent most of my life being useful to other people. My mother needs something handled, Bree gets herself into trouble, Richard creates an emergency, and I fix it. Even with Daniel, I spent years anticipating what would make his life easier until apparently being with me became one of the things that didn't.

I know what it feels like to shape myself around what somebody else wants.

This doesn't feel like that.

That should settle it.

But it doesn't.

At lunch, I take my sandwich to the break room and sit by the window instead of eating at my desk. My phone stays in my bag. There are emails waiting for me, but none of them will become more urgent because I spend twenty minutes eating something before I answer them.

For the first time all day there's nothing I have to do and no one waiting on me to do it. The thought I couldn't finish at my desk finishes itself here.

Maybe that's what I've been getting wrong.

Soren told me to sleep. I'm the one who wakes up feeling better.

He told me to eat breakfast. I'm the one who no longer feels half-dead by ten.

He told me to start saying no. I'm the one sitting here eating lunch because I didn't let Richard turn a deadline into an emergency for no reason.

None of that answers why the thought of telling Soren about it makes warmth spread through my chest.

Maybe both things can be true. Maybe I can be doing this for myself and still want him to be proud of me.

I'm not entirely comfortable with that conclusion yet, but when I go back to my desk, I don't open the Miles file.

The rest of the afternoon passes without Richard finding another reason to rearrange my priorities, and I leave the office on time.

There's a bookshop between my office and the train that I've walked past hundreds of times. Usually I barely notice it. I'm either checking my phone, thinking about something I forgot to do, or already focused on getting home.

Today, I slow down.

There's nowhere I need to be, and for once I'm not already thinking three tasks ahead. I stop outside the window for a few seconds, looking at the display, then open the door.

I don't need a book. There are unread novels at home and enough abandoned Kindle purchases to keep me occupied through retirement, but needing one isn't really the point. I wander through the shelves without checking the time, pick things up because the covers interest me, read a few first pages, and put most of them back.

Eventually, I find a novel I've wanted to read since it came out.

The hardback costs more than I'd usually spend when I could wait six months for the paperback. I buy it anyway.