"That's the 'Not-So-Nice' Lucy," Julian whispered. "The one who speaks her mind. The one who takes the promotion in London. The one who stops apologizing for taking up space."
When Lucy walked out of the hidden alley, the sun was setting, turning the sky a chaotic, beautiful shade of orange. She didn't go home to prep her salad for Wednesday. Instead, she walked into the local boutique, bought the brightest red scarf they had, and booked a one-way flight to London on her phone while standing on the sidewalk. A Nice Girl Like You
He stepped toward a canvas covered in a black sheet and pulled it back. It wasn't a painting; it was a mirror, but the reflection wasn't beige. The Lucy in the glass wore a deep emerald coat. She was laughing. She was standing on a pier in a city Lucy didn’t recognize, holding a ticket to somewhere far beyond Oakhaven. "That's the 'Not-So-Nice' Lucy," Julian whispered