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“Do you have a minute?” I ask. “We need to talk.”

Ford keeps walking. “I didn’t eat your food this time. Ask Hayden.”

“This isn’t about that.” I follow him into the threshold of his office. “I need to talk to you about something else.”

“Can it wait? I have to deal with Gelman’s new assistant. Is she competent, or am I going to have to suffer through another idiot he hired because they look good in a skirt?”

“Her name is Cali, and she’s competent,” I say, my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart. “Ford, I’m tendering my resignation.”

He stops dead, his hand frozen on the handle of his office door. He turns slowly, his entire body going rigid. For the first time, his icy composure cracks, revealing a flicker of shock. “Excuse me?”

“I said I’m quitting.” The words feel foreign coming out of my mouth. “Thank you for this opportunity. I don’t know that I can ever properly express my gratitude for what you did for me two years ago. I know you hired me out of pity, but I hope I proved that your investment was a sound one. This job was a lifeline, and I will always be grateful for that.”

Ford is staring at me, the shock in his expression slowly being replaced by that familiar, unreadable mask. But the stillness in his eyes is different now.

“I need to leave.” I plow forward before my courage can evaporate. “I’ll give you my two weeks, which will take us to the holiday break. It should be enough time for you to find a replacement for the new year.”

He doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches, thick and heavy. I have no idea what he’s thinking. Hell, maybe he’s relieved.

“That’s all I wanted to say,” I conclude somewhat lamely.

I turn and walk back to my desk, feeling a bit like I’m having an out of body experience. I can’t believe what I just did, but I also know that I had to do it. It’s time. Maybe even past time, if I’m being honest with myself.

Even with Gabriel’s extra stack of paperwork, I get everything wrapped up in time to leave at a reasonable hour. I stand for a moment while waiting for the elevator, looking across the sleek, silent office that has practically been my home for two years.

Soon, I’ll leave it forever.

And I think I’m okay with that.

7

MAEVE

Oh my god, I am so not okay with this.

The adrenaline of my decision to quit has faded away, leaving behind a nauseating dread that churns in the pit of my stomach. As I sit on the bus with the city lights flickering past the window, the initial feeling of lightness has been replaced by panic.

I just threw my life away. I can’t believe I did that. Why did I just put in two weeks with no plan, no savings to speak of, and no other job lined up? That wasn’t courage. It was a moment of sheer, self-destructive madness.

In my purse, the photographs sit in their envelope. I glare down at the worn leather. It’s foolish to blame them, but the resentment is a bitter taste in my mouth. If they hadn’t shown up at the office, if Gabriel hadn’t seen them, it wouldn’t have thrown me for such a loop. I wouldn’t have been spiraling in a panic of humiliation. And I wouldn’t have torched my stable, well-paying job out of nowhere.

I feel like the world’s biggest idiot.

My debt is more manageable than it was two years ago, but my credit is still abysmal. Without good credit, a loan is impossible, and without a loan, my dream will always be out of reach.

The truth is, I have the ghost of a dream. One that I haven’t let myself truly look at in years. I’ve always loved cooking, turning simple ingredients into something that brings comfort and joy. My ambition at one point was to open a farm-to-table café. In college, I got a double degree in marketing and finance, even attending culinary school at night. The work, the debt—it was all supposed to be worth it.

Then I graduated, and the truth of what my mother had done came crashing down.

When I met Liam, it felt like maybe things were turning around, but then that fell apart too. It’s only through Ford giving me this job that I’ve been able to survive, but I’m still just treading water, living paycheck to paycheck.

The vision I had for my life feels like a mirage. I still have my recipe book, filled with sketches and plans, hidden away in a kitchen cupboard, but I haven’t touched it in years.

I glance down at my purse again, trying to dig up the courage I felt earlier.

Maybe I look ridiculous in those photos… but I did it. I showed up. For a single afternoon, I stopped letting fear dictate my choices. I stopped trying to be invisible.

Maybe, no matter how terrified I am, it’s time to do that again. The worst thing a bank can do is say no, and I’ll never know if I don’t ask.