“Oh.” I frown, puzzled. “I figured she would convince you not to give it to me, just like she convinced you to read my blog in the first place.”
Justin cocks his head. “She didn’t convince me to read your blog. She didn’t even intend to show me your blog, Alex. She sent the link to someone at work to mock your writing and accidentally cc’d me into the email.”
I stare at Justin in disbelief. “She was mocking my writing?” I ask quietly, surprised to find myself feeling hurt. Out of everything she’s done, I never thought to question her encouraging words about my writing. But now I remember how she said my blog was “hilarious” and I suddenly understand what she meant.
He grimaces. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. But I clicked on the link in the email, thinking I’d have a good laugh, and instead found a talented writer. That’s why I asked you to send me some articles.”
“But…” I rub my forehead, trying to make sense of this. “Why was she so nice at brunch when we met?”
“Mel is all about saving face. She could hardly admit she’d passed over your writing when I liked it. She wanted to take credit for finding you, because I was impressed.”
“Huh.” I’m quiet, processing this. Since I saw the real Mel at the hospital and learned the truth about who she is, I’ve wondered why she was so nice to me when we met, why she went out of her way to help me with my writing. But it was just saving face in front of Cat and Justin. Of course. That’s how she handled her divorce too; by painting herself as the victim.
“Anyway,” Justin says, bringing my attention back to him. “Do you have a working visa?”
“Um… no.”
“Okay.” He shrugs. “I can help you sort that out. So are we good?”
I sigh, deciding to do the mature thing. If I’m going to work with him, I don’t want him to think I’m a liar. “What Mel told you was right, though. I was seeing her ex.”
“Uh, okay.” He brushes at some invisible lint on his pants. “It’s not really any of my business.”
“But the column you’re offering me is about being single. So I thought that if I wasn’t, then I wouldn’t get it.”
“Well…” He rubs his jaw, considering this. “Yeah, that could be a problem. So you’re not single, now?”
“I—” Tears tingle in my nose and I look down at my hands, sniffing. “I am now, yes.” As the words leave my mouth, there’s a little ache, deep in my ribcage. Even after everything Michael said to me, I miss him. God, I know it’s stupid—I know that I only miss a fantasy, some dream I had of us—but I do.
“Okay, then there’s no issue. The column is yours if you want it.”
My mouth pushes into a smile, but a weight settles into the pit of my stomach. I want to be a writer for Bliss Edition, but the thought of continuing to write about how fabulous it is to be single after being with Michael doesn’t exactly thrill me. In fact, it makes me want to cry.
But it’s not just because of Michael. I was over writing about this topic before things even happened with him, I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. And if I’m going to stay here in the city and live my life on my own terms, then I need to be honest—with myself and with Justin.
I clear my throat, lifting my gaze to meet his. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, Justin, but I don’t want to write about being single anymore. I know that’s what the whole column is supposed to be about, but I can’t do it. I’m sorry to let you down.” I pull my purse onto my shoulder and stand, extending a hand to thank him and leave. But he just looks at my hand then back up at my face.
“Right. Well, what do you want to write about?”
I stare at him, his frame casually leaning against his desk, his arms folded across his chest. “I’m sorry?”
He shrugs. “Alex, you’ve proven you’re a great writer and I’d love to have you on board. So if you don’t want to write this column, I’ll see if I can create something else to utilize your talents. What do you want to write about?”
I lower myself into the chair, my mind spinning. Well, I didn’t see this coming. And now, shit, I don’t know. What do I want to write about?
“The city,” I hear myself say. “This city is… something else. It’s alive, and breathing, like this living thing, this loving thing, welcoming you no matter where you’re from. I feel like it wants to know you, like it needs you as much as you need it. It’s like a lover calling you back to bed when you leave, and—” I break off as Justin’s eyebrows shoot up. Shit, what am I even saying right now? What kind of delusional rant is this?
But Justin nods. “Yes, you’re right. That’s why I love New York. Why everyone loves New York.” He scrubs a hand over his stubbly chin. “You might not want to write about being single, but what about writing as if the city were your date?” He pushes away from his desk, pacing as he thinks. “A ‘New York is my boyfriend’ kind of thing. You said the city is like a lover, and you’re clearly passionate about it. We could create a weekly column where you go on some kind of date with the city and write about it, as if it were a man. It could be part travel memoir, part dating column, all from a humorous perspective. What do you think?”
Excitement zips through me and I give Justin a genuine smile. I love this city and I’d be proud to write about it—to have New
