A small breath slipped from me. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“That’s not how interviews work.”
“It is when you’re this good.”
I shook my head, tightening my hold on Bento as he shifted against me, pressing closer like he could feel it. “That hasn’t exactly been my experience so far.”
Lo’s expression didn’t soften into pity. It grounded instead.
“That’s because you’ve been waiting for someone to recognize you without you being in the right room.”
I met her eyes. “And tomorrow I’m in the right room?”
“Yes.”
The certainty in her voice settled somewhere dangerous.
A part of me wanted to believe her.
Lucy stretched her legs out across the rug, leaning back on her hands. “For what it’s worth, if they don’t hire you, they’re idiots.”
A laugh slipped out of me, lighter this time. “Strong take.”
“Correct take.”
My gaze drifted—inevitably—back to the table.
To the folder.
My stomach tightened.
“I’m going to start looking for part-time work,” I blurted, keeping my tone even. “Just in case.”
Lo’s reaction was immediate. “No.”
“It’s not a bad idea.”
“It’s a terrible idea.”
“It’s practical, pays rent and keeps me in the States.”
“It wastes your time.”
I lifted my eyes to hers. “Lo.”
She didn’t back down. “You are not taking some filler job because you don’t trust the timing of something you’ve already earned.”
“I haven’t earned it yet.”
“Semantics.” She stepped closer, voice steady and unwavering. “You have done everything right. You have put yourself exactly where you need to be. The rest is just someone else catching up.”
I leaned back into the couch, exhaling slowly, Bento’s purr building into a steady vibration against my chest.
Lucy glanced toward the dining table. “I don’t know anything about PR politics,” she added, “but I do know my dad wouldn’t bring someone in for an interview unless it mattered.”
That pulled my attention up.