She plopped down on the couch, unsettling Binx, who glared at her before slinking off to his food bowl. The sight of his crate put him in a mood, but she knew he’d forgive her by dinnertime. Binx was a fickle lover.
An unknown number flashed on her phone screen. She answered in case it was someone calling about an interview. She and Camila had put out a lot of feelers in the last month.
“This is Hannah,” she said.
“Hi, Hannah. This is Jackson Mendez, editor in chief of Talented.”
Hannah clutched the phone tightly to her ear. Why was Jackson Mendez calling her? She tried to keep her breathing steady. Talented was the real deal. If you wanted to work in entertainment journalism, there was no better option—not that they trended toward the artists she was used to interviewing.
“Hello, Mr. Mendez,” she said, doing her best to sound normal.
“Jackson, please.” He cleared his throat. “A little birdie told me that you’re looking to make a move.”
Riley had said she’d put out feelers, but Hannah hadn’t thought that included Jackson Mendez. “I am.”
“Then I’d like to meet you,” he said. “We’ve been talking about expanding our audience, and that means interviewing more than pop artists. Atlas Genius, Dreamers, the Wombats—we want them all on our covers. We need someone who understands those bands, who relates to their fans, and who can build our audience. After talking to Leonard Nulty last week and following your career for some time, I think that person is you.”
Hannah covered the mouthpiece on her phone and silently screamed, her arms and legs kicking out wildly. This was real life. This was her life.
“That sounds amazing,” she said, her voice edgy and jilted. “Those artists deserve to be on your cover.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I’m very excited to see what you did with Leonard’s interview. You made quite the impression on him.”
“If only he hadn’t been saying goodbye,” Hannah said with a laugh.
“When he makes his comeback—oh come on, you know he will—I think you’ll have first dibs.”
The fangirl in her held onto the idea that Jackson Mendez, who knew things, thought there’d be a Nulty resurgence. If Jackson Mendez said it, it was likely to happen. He might write about the A-list, but he most definitely knew the whole spectrum—maybe Leonard most of all.
“You’re still in Boston, right? How about lunch tomorrow?” he asked. “I could use a trip to Boston. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen Alicia. I am her godfather, you know.”
That was another thing Hannah hadn’t known about Leonard Nulty. His music told so much, but not everything—not nearly everything. Perhaps that was the point.
“Lunch would be great,” she said, her hands shaking.
“Perfect. My assistant will be in touch with you.”
After a few more pleasantries, they hung up. Hannah threw her phone on the couch and looked around the tiny apartment. It was possibly the biggest moment of her life, and she was in Boston, alone. She didn’t even know who to call. Will? Her mom? Kate? In that order? She spun around, her arms out, before sinking back down onto the couch with a squeal.
Deciding to leave Deafening Silence had felt like the end of a love affair that had nowhere to go but forever. She hadn’t even fully processed it or considered where she would go from there. But the universe had plans for her. It knew her dreams better than she did. Talented had been the dream. It had been one of the many internship rejections that had led her to Europe, away from Will, and to New York with Kate. It had led her to Riley. And Riley had led her back.
Chapter 55Hannah
The brownstone smelled of paper. It always had, but Hannah had gone nose blind to it long ago. The scent hit her then, throwing her back in time to her early days huddled with Riley, typing and deleting and typing the same article again until it was Riley-worthy, a standard that became more stringent the more Hannah honed her craft. The bustle of every day at the magazine went on around her. Interns scrambling, editors arguing over article placements, Riley in the middle of it all—the conductor of the Deafening Silence orchestra. All that was left to do was sign some invoices, code some expenses, and dwindle the remaining hours she had left as a member of the Deafening Silence New York staff. She would always be family. She sat down at her desk where, almost five months ago, white carnations had appeared on her birthday. Nothing had been the same after that. Will had been the butterfly that set off the tsunami.
She dropped their framed wedding photo into the box on her desk. It was already spilling over. One of the interns had started packing her things for her. Desks were a hot commodity at their office. Emily wanted Hannah’s desk, and Henry—who had officially become a staff writer—wanted Emily’s desk, which was Hannah’s first desk. Essentially, they were kicking her out.
She’d accumulated a lot of crap in five years. There was an entire box of every issue she’d ever been featured in, which, for New York, was all of
