Will you believe me if I say my fate felt like a bad rom-com plot shoved down my throat without a script?
Because honestly, that's exactly how it felt. Someone had decided, without my consent, that I was the star of the "awkward high-society brunch chaos" episode, and I was flailing like a fish out of water.
The two women stood at the entrance, and my brain immediately short-circuited.
The older one had that violet hair I remembered from the interview, Grace Davis.
Yes, that interview Grace. The one whose resume alone could make anyone feel like they had accidentally walked into a NASA meeting instead of a casual meeting.
Her heels clicked against the floor with purpose, announcing her arrival like she owned the place....which, honestly, she probably did.
The younger girl behind her looked nervous, wide-eyed, like she was already regretting showing up. Cute.
Grace's gaze swept over the room, landing on me for just a second. She did not smile.
