From the moment I walked into the New York high-rise, I knew I wouldn’t take the job. Not because it was too busy or too loud or anything that may scare someone else away, but because it felt cold and dry and stifling. I’d never believed creativity had a home outside our minds. It was something you either had or you didn’t. No fancy high-rise was going to change that. Yet, as I looked around, waiting for Traci to call me into her office, I couldn’t help but wonder if working there would stifle my creative drive. When my name was called, I gathered my bag, held my portfolio tight, and walked in. I’d already emailed her a copy of the whole thing, but there was something about having a physical thing to show that couldn’t be replaced. The secretary signaled for me to go into the office. I let out a breath as I pushed the large stained-glass door open.

Traci was unlike everything outside of her office. She was vibrant, wearing a burnt-orange dress with frills on the sleeves. Her dyed blonde hair was up in a high ballerina bun, and her smile was warm and welcoming.

“Please, sit,” she said after shaking my hand firmly. I did and placed the portfolio on the edge of the desk.

“I love your dress.” I smiled. “The color is a dream.”

“Ah, a girl who notices. Most people are too busy looking out the windows to notice what I’m wearing, which quite frankly worries me since this isn’t an architectural firm.” Her brows knotted together in a cute pout that made me laugh and feel instantly at ease. “So, we have a lot to talk about.”

And talk we did. About everything from school to when I started drawing, where I learned to sketch, and what it was about design that called to me. I answered all of her questions with sincerity and found that Traci was the kind of woman I could be friends with, whether or not she hired me. She let me speak and nodded and rose her eyebrows every so often, as if impressed or interested, encouraging me to keep talking. I told her about Monte Fabrics and my internship at Hawthorne.

“I’ll have to look them up,” she said. “Especially if they’re getting all that exotic fabric.”

“Definitely. They’re easy to work with, too, and have the bones of a small company but the product of an international one.”

“Cute.” She smiled and turned the page on my designs. “So, tell me who our competition is. I know we aren’t the only ones who want to steal that brain of yours.”

“Umm . . .” I paused, unsure whether I should actually say. Did she want to know or was she just making conversation? I decided she had better things to do than make conversation, so I told her. “Prim. I have my interview with them on Wednesday.”

“Prim?” Her mouth dropped. “In Paris?”

I nodded slowly, wondering if saying it aloud was a mistake.

“Girl, what are you doing here?” she asked. “I’m serious. I mean, I want you. Fuck, I’ll hire you and start the paperwork right now, but Prim? They have the most exclusive apprenticeship program there is. Trust me, I got turned down three times!”

My heart skittered. “Really? You?”

“Really. Don’t get me wrong, everything happens for a reason. I see that now, but damn.” She shook her head, mouth still open slightly. “You need to take that apprenticeship. What’s stopping you? Family? It sounds like you’re ready to start a life somewhere.”

“I am. I mean . . . I don’t know what’s stopping me.” It was the truth. My siblings had managed to move on and start their lives without a second thought. I wasn’t sure why I was so hesitant to do the same.

“Tell you what,” Traci said, “you go and take that apprenticeship in Paris. If you decide you hate it and want to come home, you call me, and I’ll find a spot for you here.”

“You’d do that?”

She smiled. “It’s cute that you think I’m the one doing you a favor and not the other way around.”

As soon as I left, I called Celia. She laughed and laughed and laughed.

“Oh my god, Tess, that’s huge!”

“I guess. I mean, right? I just . . .” I couldn’t even speak. “I’m still shaking.”

She laughed again. “I just . . . I knew it. I knew they’d want you! So? Paris?”

“I have to go over there and interview anyway, right?”

“Tessa,” she said, her tone suddenly firm and serious. “You are interviewing them. Don’t you get it? You are interviewing them. Let that sink in for a moment. I’ll wait.”

I did let it sink in, and it was unreal. I shook my head. No way. I knew I was good, not that a billion others weren’t better than I was, but I knew I had something. I had a drive and love for it that not everyone had. And that was the drive and the something that was making Rowan push me off the cliff without attempting to wait for me at the bottom of it.