Page 79 of Worth the Fall

"And so is her meeting! Step aside, Miguel, this is a crisis." Linda snaps, brushing past him without a second glance. Her sensible heels clack against the hardwood as she enters, brandishing a pink bakery box in one hand and her oversized purse in the other. "Emergency stress donuts!" she declares, as though announcing the verdict in a high-profile case.

I step into the living room just in time to catch her surveying my apartment like a general assessing the battlefield. Her eyes land on me, and her mouth tightens into a line. "Mia Mason, what are you doing pacing around like a lawyer on trial? Sit down. Eat something. You can’t argue your way to partner on an empty stomach."

I open my mouth to protest, but Linda is already thrusting the box of donuts into my hands. "Chocolate-glazed, jelly-filled, and something with sprinkles because you need joy this morning," she says briskly. "Eat."

Miguel leans casually against the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "She’s been up since five," he offers. "Lots of pacing. Minimal eating."

Linda whirls on him. "And you let her?" she demands, hands on her hips. "Honestly, Miguel, you live here now. Step up."

"I—" Miguel’s smirk widens as he holds up his hands in surrender. "Got it. No pacing. More eating."

"Good," Linda says with a decisive nod before rounding on me again. "Mia, sit."

Caught between her no-nonsense tone and Miguel’s amused expression, I plop down on the couch, the donut box balanced precariously on my lap. "I’m fine, really?—"

"You’re not fine," Linda interrupts, plucking a chocolate-glazed donut from the box and pressing it into my hand. "You’re spiraling. I can see it in your eyes."

I glance at Miguel, who looks thoroughly entertained. "I’m not spiraling," I say weakly.

Linda arches an eyebrow. "You have a presentation in a few hours. You’re wearing your nerves like a bad scarf. And knowing you as well as I do, you’ve skipped breakfast. That’s three strikes."

I take a hesitant bite of the donut, the sugary sweetness melting on my tongue. "Happy?" I mumble around the mouthful.

"Ecstatic," Linda says, plopping down beside me and rummaging through her bag. "Now, let’s fix your lipstick. That coral shade washes you out."

"I like this lipstick," I argue, but she’s already pulling out a tube of something decidedly more vibrant. Miguel saunters over, watching the scene unfold with the casual air of someone who knows better than to intervene.

"I’m not changing my lipstick," I protest weakly as Linda unscrews the cap.

"Yes, you are," she counters, dabbing the color onto my lips with surprising precision. "This is a power red. You need power today. Coral is for brunch."

Miguel chuckles from the corner, and I glare at him. "You’re not helping."

"Not my circus," he says, holding up his hands. "Though, the red does look good."

"See?" Linda beams, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "Much better."

I stand, brushing crumbs from my skirt and glancing at my reflection in the hallway mirror. The red lipstick is bold, almost startling, but there’s something about it that makes me stand a little taller. "Fine," I concede. "The red stays."

"Good," Linda says, clapping her hands together. "Now, where’s your briefcase?"

"By the door," I mutter, grabbing a napkin to wipe my hands.

"And your cue cards? Do you need me to hold flashcards while you rehearse? I’m excellent at reading disapprovingly."

"Linda," I say, exhaling slowly, "I appreciate this. I do. But I think I’ve got it under control."

Her eyes narrow. "Do you?"

"Yes," I lie. "Miguel already gave me a pep talk this morning."

At this, Linda’s gaze shifts to Miguel, her expression unreadable. "Good," she says after a long pause. "I hope it was effective."

Miguel flashes her an easy smile. "I'd like to think so."

Linda studies him for another beat before nodding. "Alright, then. But if you even think about tripping in those heels today, imagine me sitting in the audience with a very disappointed face."

"I’ll do my best not to," I say, smiling despite myself.

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