Adrenaline pumps through me, and I’m absolutely dizzy with the world of possibilities that has just opened up to me. A real job in theater, being immersed in the world I love, creative liberties and experiences. Pure giddiness emanates from my every pore until I look to my right and find my current employer still staring up at the ceiling. My racing mind comes to a screeching halt.
Could I ever really leave Juliette? Would I even want to? A guilty sinking feeling settles in my gut, even though I have nothing to feel guilty about, especially considering what she just asked me to do. And it’s that exact thought that emboldens me to immediately email Professor Jack back, telling him the job sounds like an incredible opportunity and that I’m very interested in hearing more. I hit the send button and glance at Juliette again, wondering how she’ll take it if I do leave. Not well, I’m sure. She’ll be angry and hurt, but I can only hope that she’ll understand with time.
It crosses my mind that I could help soften the blow by going out on a good note. If I agree to participate in her highly unethical dating experiment, maybe she’ll be more empathetic when and if I hand in my notice. I would have proven that I would literally do anything for her. Because the truth of it is, even if we do go our own ways professionally, I don’t want to lose her. Yes, she’s demanding and out there and slightly self-centered, but I also know that she cares about me. That I mean something to her. I may be ready to stop being her assistant, but I don’t want to stop being her friend.
I quietly close my computer, tucking it into the ample storage space beside me as I once again consider what I’m about to do. A half hour later, I’m still torn and wary, but my decision is made. I make apsstsoundto Juliette, who looks lethargically over at me.
“I really do think this idea of yours is utterly ridiculous.”
Juliette’s eyes light up as they always do when she gets her way, and she immediately raises her seat. “We have a deal, then? You’re going to do it?”
I pause for several seconds until I eventually nod.
“Yes!” She springs up from her chair and leaps over to give me a hug that is chock-full of excitement and tangible relief. I can’t stop myself from returning it, albeit without my usual zeal. She hops back into her seat soon after, clapping her hands together. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! There is a method to my madness, Winnie, trust me. This is going to work.”
“Famous last words,” I mutter to myself. I gesture to the flight attendant for another champagne as I pull the ultrasoft blanket in my lap up to my chin. Frowned upon or not, it is absolutely exiting this plane with me come morning. If one finds themselves on the verge of an existential crisis while also throwing their dignity to the wind for the sake of their boss’s creative process, they at least deserve a fluffy blanket.
3
Slipping out of the sleek silver town car that picked us up from Heathrow, we’re now standing in front of a white stucco building lined with multiple terraces. A short wrought-iron fence encloses the front, and two rows of lush bushes lead to a pair of black double doors. Juliette takes a deep breath as she gazes up at the period building, her cheeks pulling back in the smallest smile before striding forward towards the entrance.
“Yeah, no, we’ll get the bags,” Roshni says jokingly. “You think she’ll tip us?”
“Oh, exorbitantly,” I answer with a smirk. Between the two of us, we manage the luggage after five minutes and two trips up and down the pristine elevator. And when we finally do enter Juliette’s apartment, my breath catches in my throat.
It’s similar in size to the New York penthouse, but that’s where the similarities end. This space is dreamier, softer, shimmering with a quiet elegance. It’s staged to perfection with clean lines and timelessly fashionable decor. Tan and white make up everything—the expansive walls, the plush carpets, the herringbone wood floor. Brass lighting features and chandeliers remain unlit but beautiful as natural light pours in from the stately vintage windows.
Roshni nudges me with her shoulder. “Is it just me, or do you suddenly feel like a French diplomat?”
“Oui, Madam Ambassador,” I say in my best Parisian accent. “This place is next-level. Do you think we can convince Juliette that we should all live here permanently?”
“Whatever plan you come up with, I’m down. If all else fails, we can just start wearing glasses and baggy designer clothes as we slowly steal her identity.”
“I support that course of action.”
Roshni gasps as she steps deeper into the living room and looks over at the open kitchen off to the right that seems to be made entirely of marble. I follow her path, and we’re both standing there with mouths agape as Juliette returns from the bedroom and tosses her bag down onto the floor. She strolls over to the center of the room and falls back onto the luxurious cream-colored couch.
“I can’t believe I’m back here,” she says lazily. “It feels like I’ve entered some kind of time warp. Any chance my body reverted back to its twentysomething glory?”
I move in her direction to sit on one of the armchairs, which I swear molds to perfectly cushion my entire body.
“You look as vibrant and lovely as ever,” I answer.
“Womp, womp. So that’s a no.”
“Seriously, why don’t you live here year-round? This place is incredible.”
“Trust me, it gets old fast.”
“I find that hard to believe.” I burrow down even deeper into the bewitchingly comfy cushions. “And for the record, if you’d decide to relocate me here for work and change my job title from assistant to estate manager, I want you to know you have my unequivocal blessing.”
“Fabulous. But before you apply for dual citizenship, let’s not forget that we’re only here for three weeks.”
“Three weeks, a month, a year. What is time, really?”
“Time is something you’re running short on, as a matter of fact. You’re due to meet British Boyfriend Number One in a couple of hours.”
Still investigating the kitchen, Roshni clears her throat and graces me with a disapproving gaze when I glance at her over my shoulder. She woke up on the flight just as Juliette and I put the finishing touches on my Vibefinder profile, and she is most certainly not a fan of this faux romantic endeavor. I give her a resigned shrug and turn back to Juliette.
