“Hold on, hold on,” I said. “Aren’t you getting a little carried away here? I’m an architect, not a qualified child minder. I don’t know the first thing about being a nanny and watching kids. I don’t even think I like kids—”

“That’s because you’ve only met my brother’s kids and they’re little shitheads,” Meredith explained gravely.

I pointed at her. “That’s a true story. But I’m being serious.”

Tabs suddenly grabbed my pointing hand. The look in her brown eyes turned her into a puppy. At the shelter. On Christmas Eve.

“Oh, no. Tabs.” I shook my head side to side. “Don’t give me the eyes.”

“You’d be doing me a massive favor,” Tabs pressed. “Saving my ass and helping my business. I’d really like that commission. It’s great money for you too. Especially while you look for another job. And I know you. I trust you. You’re responsible and loyal. I know this family. They need a good person. A nice person. They’ve been through a lot. Think of it as doing a really good deed for several people at once.”

Meredith leaned forward and took my other hand. “You need a fresh start. A place to lick your wounds and figure out your next steps. Somewhere you can’t wallow. You can send your resume out from France just as easily as from here.”

That was true at least. The thought of waking up every day realizing my dream had just been flushed into the sewer and I was going to have to dig around down there and pull it out and try to get the stench off was almost too much to think about right now. I’d worked so freaking hard. For so many years. I was fucking exhausted if I was being truthful. And worse, I realized, I’d been running without moving forward for quite some time. That was why this promotion mirage today had hurt all the more. Never mind the sleaze factor. That was just topping on the shit pie.

“What have you got to lose?” asked Meredith.

Nothing, I answered mentally.

I needed to leap off the edge and trust the universe.

It was France. Somewhere I’d always wanted to go. Somewhere I thought I’d go with my dad one day. He would want me to go.

But there was no way I could be that impulsive.

Could I? That wasn’t me.

The idea grew and grew in my chest—a bubble of nerves, but mostly excitement, until I found I could hardly breathe. “Hell, yes,” I suddenly burst out. “I’m going to France!”

“Please, Josie, I—wait, what?” Tabitha blinked twice and a cloud parted across her face. “Josephine Marin, did you just say, yes?”