“No, Theo,” I interrupted in the sharpest tone I’d ever used on anyone. “I don’t want to work for you or for anybody. I want to start my own company.” Air filled my lungs when I spoke the words, and realized I’d never said this out loud. Even though it was exactly what I’d been working toward, I hadn’t voiced it. Not to myself or anyone else. What Theo didn’t get, was that this wasn’t just about me not wanting to be his PA—I wanted something that was mine. Something I got to call the shots in.

“This library renovation can help me get visibility for Bookish Boudoir,” I explained, and when he didn’t respond I kept going. “It could even lead to a partnership with some lifestyle brands. Get my name out there as a bespoke interior designer. Can you do that?”

He was probably locking his jaw so hard it was sealed together by now. Theo Ganas did not like to hear the word no, and I was kind of digging this newfound freedom to deploy it in his direction as much as I fucking wanted.

“Is that what this is about, exposure?” He said the word like it was a brand-new concept I’d just come up with.

“Listen, Theo,” I said, before he could say more shit to make me mad. “I have to go. My sister will bring by my work phone and keys this week. Good luck with everything.” I heard him taking in a breath, probably to try and wear me down with another round of yelling, but I ended the call before he could.

“What was that?” Julia asked, her eyes locked on my phone like it was an explosive.

“That was the heir to the Ganas real estate empire calling me to ask how much money it would take to get me back to New York.”

“Coño, that comemierda,” Julia said, then twisted her mouth to the side.

“I said no, Julia.” My best friend opened her mouth, likely to trash-talk my boss a little more, but seemed to think better of it.

“Good for you.” She pulled my hand and we walked back out in silence to where the rest of the crew was imbibing more comped bubbly courtesy of Dani. “I know it’s a lot but you made the right decision,” she told me in an attempt to reassure. I knew she was right, and still that queasy feeling wouldn’t quit.

“It’s...just, yeah. It’s an ending.”

“Endings can be scary,” José said, and leaned over to squeeze my hand.

“But you have an exciting beginning here,” Tariq, who I had already labeled the designated optimist, said as he clinked his glass with Salome’s.