As I sat in a conference room surrounded by women who knew what they were doing, I felt like a fraud. They spoke in quick, confident tones, uttering design terms and budget figures like it was second nature to them. Meanwhile, I gripped my notebook like a lifeline, my pen hovering over the page as I tried to make sense of the rapid-fire conversation.
I had no business being here. So what if I have an MBA? I have zero experience atreal work.
This wasn’t PTA planning. This wasn’t a school fundraiser. This wasn’t deciding what to cook for dinner while Sebastian texted that he’d be home late.
This was real work, and I was terrified of saying the wrong thing, screwing it up, and having Luna finally say that I just wasn’t cut out forworkafter being ahomemakerfor twenty-plus years.
Luna flipped to the next slide of the proposal on the conference room screen. “Lia, we need to refine the community outreach section. Do you have any thoughts?”
I looked up, swallowing hard. Everyone was waiting. I could fake it. Smile, nod, and say something safe.
Come on, Lia, you’ve been playing it safe all your life, and where has that gotten you?
I cleared my throat. “I—um…”
Get it together, Lia.
I straightened in my chair, gripping my pen tighter. “I was thinking we could highlight the design’s long-term impact on the community. Not just the hospital’s carbon footprint but how the design encourages wellness for both patients and staff. We should frame it as a story—how the space itself helps with healing, how it minimizes stress, and how it improves efficiency for doctors and nurses. That way, it’s not just about sustainability—it’s about the people it serves.”
Silence.
My stomach twisted. Had I just rambled my way into making no sense at all?
Then Aurora grinned. “Sounds good. It’s more than just hospital green initiatives; it’s how the design serves the community. That’s an angle Tommy Minton will eat up.”
I exhaled, realizing I had been holding my breath.
Luna nodded. “Let’s build on it, Lia. Maybe you can have a proposal to present by the end of next week?”
“Yes.”
And just like that, they moved on, as if I belonged here,as if what I had said mattered. But before I could get all excited about having a seat at the table, a new rush of panic slid in. Now, I had to put together a proposal by theend of the next freaking week. How on earth would I do that?
I studied previous proposals stored on the company server, then turned to the Internet, examining social outreach strategies used by hospitals.
It was seven in the evening, and I was still at work, feeling like a total loser.
I was sure if someone asked Aurora or Nova to put such a proposal together, they’d have it ready in a matter of hours. I was going to have to work harder and longer to produce something that would be substandard.
If they fired me, I’d be so embarrassed.
Everyone would know.
Savannah was such a small town. Dolly and Coco would celebrate.
Sebastian? I had no clue. He was the man who had said I shouldn’t work, but now he said he was proud of me.
My shoulders slumped as I stared at the coffee machine as if it were preparing to give me some kind of divine revelation. Today had gone decently, but what about tomorrow? And the next day? And the next?
After the rush of the first days of learning, I was afraid every day that this job and company I’d come to love would be taken away from me. It was one thing to write a business proposal for a class and quite another in real life. Luna would realize I was faking it like no one’s business, and Nina…damn, but she’d had faith in me, and I would be letting her down. Ada would be so disappointed with me and?—
“You’re here late.” Luna leaned against the doorway into the cafeteria, a coffee cup in hand.
Chin up, Lia!
“Oh, just working on that community outreach proposal,” Isaid as airily as I could, like I knew what the hell I was doing.
She took a slow sip of coffee. “You know, when I first started working here, I was scared every freaking day that Nina would fire me.”