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My eyes sting. “I don’t dream about inventing anymore.”
“The bullshit he said about your skills was only a diversion to keep you from submitting the same idea as him. You know that, right?”
“But—”
“But nothing. Lance lied because he wanted to hold you back long enough for him to steal your idea.”
It makes sense in theory, but I’m still not sure.
Claire grabs my hand and holds on to it. “This is your chance to prove to yourself that nothing anyone says defines who you are. Only your actions do.”
My chest tightens. “I’m not sure…”
She squeezes my hand. “Come on. Just submit one teensy little project. That’s all. What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Well, where should I start? I mean—”
Claire covers my mouth with her palm. “It was a rhetorical question!”
I raise a brow. “Why are you pushing me so hard to apply?”
“Because that’s what friends are for. We need to push each other out of our comfort zones. Because if you’re not afraid—”
“Then you’re not growing.” I smile back at her.
“So what do you say?”
I pull out my phone from my pocket and open an email I received last week. “Speaking of comfort zones…I wanted to bring this up to you, and now seems like the perfect time. Because if you’re not afraid…” I tease.
“Oh no.”
My grin widens. “If I’m submitting a proposal, then you’re applying for the apprentice position at The Royal Chateau. They have an opening in the kitchen that has your name written all over it.”
Claire’s smile drops. “This wasn’t supposed to be about me.”
“We’re a duo. If I’m pushing myself to my limit, then you’re coming along with me.”
This is my chance to help Claire out. She never wanted to permanently stay at The Magic Wand Salon, but she never worked up the nerve to apply for the position she was initially rejected from.
“I can’t apply there. They have a Michelin star!”
“All the more reason to apply to the very best.”
“But I don’t have a culinary degree from some fancy French school!” She jumps up from her spot on the couch.
“No, but you haveadegree and heaps of experience working at restaurants during high school and college.”
She throws her arms in the air. “Last week I burnt a batch of cookies.”
“Only because I forgot to set the timer.” I laugh.
“The entire building had to evacuate because of the fire alarm. There’s no way anyone would trust me in a kitchen after that.”
I laugh. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
She plops onto the couch and lays her head on my lap. “You weren’t supposed to blackmail me.”
“What are friends for?”
