I walked over and sat down on the sturdy coffee table directly across from her.
“Then you need to start building something tangible, Brooke,” I said softly. “And you have to actually stay with it when it gets boring.”
She lowered her hands, her mascara smeared beneath her eyes, ruining the pristine cream blazer. “You speak about it as if it is a simple equation. It isn’t.”
“I never said it was simple. It’s brutal.”
“You already possess an established career. You are respected in your field.”
“I didn’t start out respected, Brooke. I spent the first four years of my career fetching heavy equipment and sweeping up debris for foremen who couldn’t even be bothered to remember my first name. I was invisible.”
She looked at me, her eyes bloodshot. “I am forty-one years old, Rupert. I cannot psychologically handle starting at the bottom.”
“Then you need to stop conceptualizing it as the bottom.”
