The old office had been all polished women and careful hair and men who looked expensive even in jeans.
Lauren had done the work.
Done it well.
Still, comments kept coming.
Maybe more color.
Maybe a cleaner silhouette.
Maybe something that makes you feel more executive.
Maybe lose the cardigan.
Maybe change the hair.
Maybe work on polish.
One day “not the right image for where we’re headed” had walked her to the door.
Now this stranger was standing in her apartment saying the thing she should have heard from the start.
That is not part of the job.
She felt suddenly, fiercely close to tears.
“I don’t need charity,” she said before she could stop herself.
Ethan nodded at once.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“I’m not taking a made-up position because you feel guilty.”
“It isn’t made up.”
He didn’t sound offended.
