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“I know what I’m doing is crazy, Ava,” I say, moving on to the next box now. “But this is also the first time in years that I’m certain I made the right decision.”
“You know I’ve got your back,” Ava says. “This is going to feel hard at first, but you’ll get through it. I’m happy to take you out to eat as much as you need until your paychecks start coming through.”
I chuckle, but I’m forever grateful for her support. Since everyone else is shocked by my recent life choices. Having her on my side is all the certainty I need to keep me going.
“Thanks, Ava. Let’s leave the rest for later. I have to get ready for my interview now.”
“Do you need a ride?” she asks, tucking a strand of her shoulder-length brown hair behind her ears.
I shake my head as I start for my bedroom. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve done enough for me. I can take the subway.”
She tilts her head and eyes me like I’ve lost my mind. “Mia, when was the last time you took the subway?”
I bite my bottom lip and break into a guilty smile. It’s been a while. Definitely since the before-Michael times. When he found out I was taking the subway regularly, he bought me a brand-new SUV. When I insisted it was too much, he refused to let me give it back to him. That’s what led me to buy my own car. A much more practical used car. For a while, I still took the subway behind his back, but eventually I stopped.
“I’ll drive you,” Ava insists. She gestures for me to get dressed, then returns to my living room full of boxes.
“Hi, I’m here for an interview,” I say when I arrive at the circulation desk on the eleventh floor. “Amelia Barnett.”
Thankfully, the Cogswell Productions building is a lot closer to my apartment than I thought. Just a fifteen-minute commute on Madison Avenue.
The receptionist gestures toward a room at the end of the hallway. “Go down this way, then make a left. The interviews are being held in the conference room at the end of the hall. They’ll let you know when the interviews will begin.”
I nod and follow her directions, leading me to a large conference room where several other candidates are already seated and waiting. The space has been arranged so that several rows of foldable chairs are set up on one end. On the other end is a long table with five chairs. I’m assuming this must be for the interview team.
My stomach flutters as I take the empty seat in the front row. It might be helpful for the interview committee to remember me if I’m right in their face the entire time.
I cross one leg over the other, and the ankle of my black pantsuit rises up to reveal my red-bottom velvet black heel. I let out a sigh as I peer down at them. Michael gifted these heels to me. As much as I wanted to toss out everything he ever gave me, I currently don’t have the money for a new wardrobe. So ex-boyfriend-gifted heels it is.
The candidate chairs begin filling up, along with a few of the interviewing team seats. I turn around and scan the people sitting in the rows behind me. Most of them are young, most likely fresh out of college. I bite my lip, coated with a deep berry-red lipstick. Perhaps the lips and red-bottom heels are a bit over the top.
I wipe the bit of sweat that’s formed along my hairline with the back of my hand. Maybe this was a mistake. Since not everyone from the interview team has arrived yet, perhaps there’s still time to leave.
No, Mia. You need to do this. Your financial well-being depends on it.
Given that this is my only current job prospect, I remain seated.
One of the people sitting at the hiring team table—a tall woman in her thirties with straight blonde hair, wearing the exact same heels as me—rises to get our attention.
“Good morning, everyone,” she says and the room quiets down. “Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to interview for our internship program. Once our executive producer arrives, we’ll get started.”
She returns to her seat, and the candidates resume their small talk with one another. I’m one of the few who hasn’t made a friend. Instead, I’ve got my hands in my lap as I run through my presentation in my head again. I’ve already practiced it plenty of times and at this point can recite my notes line-by-line.
Finally, a tall man in a navy wool suit paired with a black shirt underneath enters the conference room and heads straight for the empty seat at the hiring team table. His pace is quick but confident; he knows he’s late, but he’s too important to care that he’s holding us up.
He takes his seat directly across from me and scoots his chair in. As he reaches his arms around his back to adjust the shirt he has tucked into his suit, I finally get a good look at his face. I gasp as my eyes widen. It can’t be.
He glances up and pauses as his blue eyes pierce into mine. My lips part as we stare back at one another.
The executive producer on this project is…Carter?
Chapter 6
Carter
Whatthehellisshe doing here?
I’m more certain than ever now that whole thing was a joke. A very long and elaborate joke the rest of the team is still playing on me. That can be the only explanation as to why she’s sitting here right now. She seemed way too wealthy in that mermaid dress of hers for her to be here interviewing for an internship position.
