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“What do you mean?” Izzy asked, buttering a piece of toast.

“Like…” Kiera angled the spatula toward Izzy, then back toward herself. “What… do we do now?”

“I have a few ideas,” Izzy said with an exaggerated wink.

“I do want to talk more about my offer in Nebraska. And this townhouse. And?—”

“Do we really need to decide anything right now? We’ve been waiting forever for this, right? Can’t we just bask in it a little longer?” Izzy interrupted, hopping off the counter to wrap an arm around Kiera’s waist, desperate to keep ahold of the fragile moment, the ease of the morning. As soon as the words left her mouth, she knew it was the wrong thing to say. She could see Kiera’s body tense as the question landed like an insult.

Kiera’s body felt stiff as she tried to force a nonchalant nod. “Oh, um, yeah. You’re right,” she said, clearing her throat and pushing her glasses back up her nose with the back of her hand. “We have time for all of that.”

Izzy could feel the shift in the room. Kiera pushed the scrambled eggs around the pan in silence.

“What’s on your agenda for today?” Kiera asked with a tone that Izzy could hear was slightly strained.

Izzy cleared her throat. “I have that big meeting with Pete tomorrow for the project you helped me with, so I’ll be out of commission for most of today, but then I was thinking maybe we could do dinner tonight?”

“I’ll be with the girls,” Kiera said, and Izzy hated how Kiera’s tone suggested that Izzy wasn’t invited. “It’s their first night in the new place… Maybe tomorrow night?”

Izzy didn’t want to admit that she felt disappointed. She understood exactly where Kiera was coming from, and she didn’t want her own selfish desires to get in the way. “Sure, of course. Tomorrow sounds great.”

Pete leanedback in her chair at Second Star’s main office — Pete's dining room table — crossing her arms and giving Izzy a knowing look. The remnants of their celebratory lunch, a veritable feast of half-eaten sandwiches and an empty plate of pastries, were scattered across the table. Gladys was lying nearby, enjoying a few slices of turkey that Pete had slipped to her.

The partnership Izzy had been chasing — a major mentorship organization that had been highly recommended by Sage Carson — had been her biggest challenge yet. It wasn’t just about expanding their outreach. It was about proving that Second Star had the infrastructure, the vision, and the leadership to handle something stateside.

When she’d first pitched the idea to Pete, her voice had trembled with doubt, but Pete’s enthusiasm had been unwavering. Still, finalizing the partnership had taken a lot of determination. She spearheaded the project, fine-tuned details late into the night, and fought to ensure that Second Star’s mission didn’t get lost. Then, finally, after weeks of back-and-forth, the agreement was official.

The victory wasn’t just hers — it was the kind of breakthrough that would help communities across the country. And Kiera had helped with an essential planning part of it.

“So,” Pete started, breaking the comfortable silence. “You gonna let yourself celebrate this win? Because this new partnership isn’t something you just brush off like it’s no big deal.”

Izzy let out a laugh, leaning forward to rest her arms on the table. “It’s… huge. I know. I just—” She hesitated, rolling a pen between her fingers. “It still feels like I’m waiting for you to realize you made a mistake by letting me lead on this.”

“Ex-fucking-cuseme, Isabel Tierney?!” Pete balked, her brows high.

Izzy gave a weak smile, the weight of imposter syndrome still clinging stubbornly to her shoulders. “It just doesn’t feel real. Like… this is your baby, Pete. You built Second Star from the ground up. You just gave me a job because we’re friends.”

Pete snorted. “Because we’re friends? You’re kidding me, right? You convinced an organization with national reach to partner with us. You presented the idea, you led those meetings, you handled the details. You’re not just helping — you’re steering the damn ship.”

Izzy shifted in her seat, the praise making her uncomfortable, though a tiny part of her clung to it like a life raft. “Everything is happening so fast. I keep thinking I’m going to screw it up.”

Pete leaned forward, her voice gentler now. “I get it, but you’re not going to screw it up. You are not the same hesitant person who began this job unsure of their direction. You've had incredible ideas to grow what we're doing, that I wouldn't have even thought of.”

A sense of accomplishment sank in slowly. She had led the project. Not Pete, not anyone else. Her.

Pete’s expression was sincere. “Iz, come on. You earned this. The job wasn’t a pity offer, and I’ve never doubted my decision to bring you on.”

Izzy took a beat, absorbing the words. She picked at the edge of her notebook, then glanced up. “Do you ever feel like you’ve finally figured your shit out, but instead of feeling settled, you just... start looking for the exit? Like some part of you is already scanning for the next move, even if nothing’s wrong?”

Pete’s smile looked suddenly sad. “Are you kidding? I started Second Star because I was bad at staying still. But that’s not a sign of failure. It’s a sign that you’re still growing. You’re allowed to grow. You’re allowed to want more, to do more.”

Izzy nodded slowly, her gaze dropping back down to the table.

Pete’s brows lifted with curiosity. “What’s going on?”

She thought of Kiera — her laugh, her eyes, the awkwardness of their goodbye yesterday morning. Izzy swallowed hard. “I think I fucked things up with Kiera.”

Pete didn’t press, just offered a small smile. “I doubt that. Kiera seems head over heels for you. I bet you could start wearing cargo shorts and she’d not only tell you they looked good but also defend their usefulness.”