Marguerite finally makes her way over to me before placing her hand on her hip, saying, “When were you going to tell me you were applying for other jobs?” Blinking, I shake myself out of it. “Um…I didn’t mean to. It accidentally happened.” “Well, you accidentally got the job. Congratulations.” “Marguerite, I’m sorry,” I say, letting my shoulders melt away from my ears. “I can turn it down.” “Psh,” she says, waving a hand at me. “Look at this place. Does it look like I need you? You’re taking a job in Paris with that man. If you turn it down, I’ll take it.”
