When Beck’s sandwich is almost ready, she settles onto a barstool opposite me on the other side of the island. “Erica tells me you’re designing shoes now?”

I flip a grilled cheese over and try not to scoff. “I wouldn’t say actively. Right this moment, I’m making grilled cheese.” I glance up to Erica on the other side of the vast open-concept living/dining room, who has a phone wedged into the crook of her shoulder, a pencil between her teeth, and her fingers hovering above her keyboard.

“And doing a mighty fine job,” Beck tells me.

“Glad to hear it.” I sigh. “But yeah, I went to school for design. Shoes. And clothes. And handbags. And anything I could fill the pages of my sketch pad with. But shoes were my first love.”

“You’re a real find, Cindy.” Beck leans across the island, and her voice drops a few octaves. “You should know I wasn’t kidding about you joining the show.”

I shake my head and tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “I’m not cut out for reality television. Besides, you heard Erica.”

“Leave Erica to me,” she says.

“You sure that’s safe?” I ask with a raised brow.

She shrugs. “Who better to convince the master than her apprentice?”

I slide Erica’s grilled cheese onto a plate and run it over to her.

“Think about it,” Beck says when I return. “Most of the girls that go on this show don’t show up for love. They’re there for exposure. Their big break. There’s nothing wrong with that. You think the suitor’s intentions are always pure? This could be huge for you as a designer. Audiences would love you.”

“Erica seems to think differently,” I say under my breath. Besides, I don’t really have much to offer as a designer at the moment.

Beck leans in even closer. “Erica is scared,” she says as though she knows exactly what I’m talking about. “She’s iconic. I idolize her. But when you’re an idol, you don’t have to take risks. It’s time for America to see women of all shapes and sizes go after their dreams.”

“I wouldn’t say my dream is some random dude who’s looking to up his status with a starring role on a dating show with over twenty other women….”

“Can you even fathom what it’s like to go to bed one night totally normal and wake up the next morning with your name on the tip of the entire world’s tongue? You want the world to see your work? What better way than once a week on primetime television?”

That’s enough to make me pause. I’ve spent the last four years in and out of internships, just praying that someone’s assistant would take me seriously or that I’d get two seconds of face time with a brand director who could give me at least an ounce of feedback. And last year felt even more desperate as I secretly hoped that every person I met would be the one to spark that creative flame for me again.

Even if I did have a vision for what I want my career to look like, going on some TV show feels like a shortcut somehow. But plenty of people do it. One of the girls who was disqualified one year went on to be the female suitor the next season, and now she has her own show on the Food Network. Sometimes you just have to take whatever step you can and hope it leads you in the right direction.

“I couldn’t leave the kids,” I say, forcing myself back to reality.

“I can have Erica a new nanny in three days. She’s just been holding the spot for you to get you to finally accept some cash from her, and you know it’s true.”

I’d suspected as much. If I’m being really honest with myself, I know there are plenty of people for this job—many of whom are much better qualified than I am. My only childcare experience is watching my upstairs neighbor’s newborn while she took a shower one time.

“Beck,” Erica calls. “Did you ever hear back from Nick on the location scouting for the week-two date? Are we locked in on that yet?”

“Uh, let me check.” Beck raps her fist on the marble countertop. “Think about it. Promise?”

“Sure,” I say half-heartedly.

I spend the rest of the afternoon with the triplets. We watch a show about baking gone wrong, and I keep an eye on them while they splash around in the shallow end of the pool.

While I’m sitting at the edge, with my legs dangling in the water, my phone rings.

Sierra’s face pops up on my screen. “How has it only been twenty-four hours?”

“Oh my god, is that really it?”

“Who is that?” Mary demands.

I flip the camera around so Sierra can see the triplets and they can see her. “This is my best friend, Sierra. Say hi!”

“Hi!” they scream in unison.

“They are so cute!” she says as I turn the phone back on me. “I’m sorry about last night. It was so loud in there, but I have to tell you what happened!” Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks like she might just burst.

“Okay…”

“I met someone.”

My jaw drops. Sierra is about as interested in romance as she is in learning how to repair lawn mowers. “Who? What?” I lower my voice to a whisper. “Are they there? Like right now? I’m gone for a day and you’ve already got a one-night stand under your belt?”

She laughs. “Slow your roll, perv. I met the head of brand development for Opening Ceremony. She gave me her card, Cin! She told me to call her first thing on Monday morning to set up a lunch date! I just showed her some of my work super fast, like, on my phone, and she was so into it.”

One thing you can trust in fashion is that no one is polite just to be polite. If someone is interested in your work, it’s genuine. “Whoa, Sierra. That’s amazing. You’d be such a good fit there.”

“I know, right? Totally my aesthetic. I’m going to spend the weekend beefing up on brand history.”

“They’re going to love you,” I say with a forced smile.

“What about you, California girl? Any life-changing news to share?”

“Just living my best nanny life. I might pursue my big dream of becoming a grilled cheese chef.”

She rolls her eyes. “You can still come back. I could probably even float your rent for a month and tell Wendy your room isn’t for rent anymore.”

Outside of Sierra, our apartment was one of the hardest things to give up. We lucked into it thanks to a lead from an off-campus housing coordinator and an alumni who took a job in Spain and agreed to sublet to us on the cheap-ish while Erica helped fill in the gaps. “No, Erica needs my help and Wendy is moving in on Tuesday, you nut! You can’t just bail on her like that. And she can actually afford the rent, so maybe you should try keeping her happy.”