Page 87 of Tilly in Technicolor
Tilly sucks in a shaky, gasping breath. Then jolts up from her seat and body slams Mona in the world’s most enthusiastic hug.
“Yes!” Tilly says, her voice loud enough that other diners start to look at us. “Thank you so much.”
Wait… okay… hold on. Things are moving fast. So fast.
Mona just offered Tilly a job. A real job. In London.
Holy shit.
London. Tilly.
Tilly has a job in London.
I live in London.
“Oh my God,” I blurt out, blinking at Tilly, then at Mona and Amina. “Tilly, you’ll be in London.”
Tilly, lady of refinement that she is, grabs a napkin and blows her nose into it, then smiles.
“Sounds like you aren’t getting rid of me yet,” she says, walking around the table and wrapping her arms around me.
I squeeze her back.
“Have you told Mom and Dad?” Tilly asks Mona.
“Not yet. I thought it would be a fun surprise to tell her when she’s here next week.”
Tilly nods, rocking back and forth a bit. “And, uh, this isn’t like… I don’t know, a pity hire, is it?”
Mona’s face creases. “Tilly, no. Of course not.” She reachesacross the table, taking her sister’s hand. “I mean, on a selfish level, am I excited to keep you closer and spend more time with you? Of course. But you have so much to offer. Ruhe is lucky to have you.”
Tilly scrubs at her cheeks furiously as a giant smile glows across her lips.
“We have one more surprise,” Amina says, grinning at Mona.
Tilly opens her mouth, likely to make yet another innuendo about their relationship, but Mona points at her. “Don’t,” she says sternly. Tilly clamps her mouth shut.
“We’re taking you to the beach,” Amina says, clapping her hands together. “As a thank-you for the work you’ve both done. The next four days are for nothing but rest and relaxation.”
“What beach?” Tilly asks, eyes going almost feral in instant excitement.
“A small town outside of Marseille,” Mona says.
Tilly looks at me with an arched eyebrow.
“South of France,” I tell her, and her grin is more lovely than any landscape we’re likely to see in the idyllic area.
“Hein hein hein. Baguette. Oui oui,” Tilly says in an awful and exaggerated French accent as she pretends to swoon, falling back into her seat.
Mona rolls her eyes but can’t hide the smile that pops out. “Our train leaves on Saturday,” she says, taking a sip of her wine. “I’d recommend you brush up on your French in the meantime.”
Chapter 36Working Kinda Sucks
TILLY
To be totally completely ungratefully honest, my new position with Ruhe is not exactly my dream job. Mona had me hit the ground running the day after our dinner. My title is Executive Assistant, which sounds so pretentious I almost rolled my eyeballs out of my head when she told me.
It’s a lot of detail-oriented administrative work. Scheduling, meeting minutes, writing emails, responding to emails, forwarding emails… so many emails (*cries inI hope this finds you well!*).
