"I can’t believe it," Lydia mused, leaning back in her chair with that smug look on her face—the one she always wore when she thought she’d won. "After three years of me begging you, and now, suddenly, you’re saying yes?"
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop smiling, not even if I tried. Because, yes—I was finally doing something for myself. Something that actually mattered. Something that could help me make a name for myself in the publishing world.
"There must be something influencing your decisions," she continued, still studying me like she was on the verge of uncovering the greatest mystery of our lives. "Perhaps I should figure out where those black sneakers live and send them a bouquet of thank-you flowers."
I scoffed, shaking my head. "You know, I can just leave again, right?"
