Page 61 of Business or Pleasure

“And I deserved that.”

Her voice turns gentle, none of that frantic energy from a few minutes ago. “You’re being safe, right?” she asks, and I nod. “I’m sorry, I’m never recovering from this.”

“You’re going to have to, because I need advice.” I give the dregs of my piña colada a poke with my straw, summoning all my courage again. I didn’t realize how badly I needed this. “A couple nights ago, he told me he had a crush on me. While high on cold meds. And he doesn’t seem to remember saying it, so I don’t know if that means I should just forget about it, too? Because I seem physiologically incapable of doing that.”

Noemie’s quiet for a few moments. “Do you have feelings for him?” There’s no judgment there, only a gentle curiosity.

I think back to that first night in Seattle. How I hadn’t had that kind of immediate spark with someone... well, ever.

“It almost doesn’t matter,” I say quietly, “because it’s not like this can go anywhere in the long term. He doesn’t date outside the industry, and the book has to be our first priority.”

Plus, the sting from Wyatt’s rejection is still a little too fresh. Even if it’s a relief that I haven’t thought about him in a while—at least, not in the lying-awake-at-night kind of way—I don’t know if my heart is ready to go through that again.

“I’m going to say something, and I don’t want you to get mad about it.” She examines a sunburn blooming on her forearm. “I’m sure I could say the same thing about myself, but I think sometimes you avoid taking risks.”

I expected her to give me some kind of encouragement, like But you’re kind of in the industry, or press me for not actually answering her question, so it takes me a few moments to come up with a response.

“That’s valid. It’s part of the reason I took this project. My parents were worried about this trip. You were worried about this trip. And yeah, maybe I’ve lived in the same place my whole life, with the same people. Maybe I tried to have a relationship with one of my best friends and it massively backfired. But this is the longest I’ve been away from home, pretty much on my own, and I’m happy, Nome. No anxiety attacks, no existential loneliness. I even do my full skincare routine on most days.” With a flutter of my lashes, I place my hands beneath my chin, showing off my almost-blemish-free face. “I’m functioning. Thriving, one could say.”

“All of that’s great,” she says. “But that’s not entirely what I meant. Ever since your layoff, things have been hard. I get it. You’re spending your career writing under other people’s names instead of your own. I’m sure some people love ghostwriting, but I know you’re not happy. When was the last time you opened up your book?”

I know she doesn’t mean it to, but the question strikes a nerve. One that’s been frayed and worn thin over the years. “I open up the document plenty.”

She lifts her eyebrows. “Then when was the last time you worked on it?”

I go quiet, eyes trained on the dusky blue strip of horizon.

“When we were little, I just remember that being the happiest you ever were,” she continues, and I get a flash of memory. Noemie was always my first reader, and I loved printing out a chapter, running across the street to show her. She’d never edit me, never critique—she’d just tell me she wanted more. “I love seeing you out here, and I know you’re going to write a fantastic book. I just wonder if sometimes you hold yourself back from things you know you want. That’s all.”

I’m not sure why everyone in my life is intent on bringing up my past. I’ve moved on from it—Noemie should be able to do the same. Maybe ghostwriting isn’t the dream job, but it’s much less scary than trying to pivot to something I have no clue whether I can be successful at.

Still, I allow myself to imagine what it might look like, that career for a different version of myself. Just for a moment. Hours spent brainstorming plot points and building character arcs. Getting lost in my own mystery. A cover. A book signing.

Holding those pages in my hands and finally feeling proud of something I’ve created.

How hard it would be to just take that risk, close my eyes, and leap.

“I get it,” I say, even if I’m saying it through slightly gritted teeth. “I’m glad you’re here. Love you.”

She throws her arm around my shoulders. “Love you even more now that I know your deep, dark secret.”

As we pack our bags and head back to the hotel, I can’t stop thinking about how Noemie’s right: my collaboration with Finn has an expiration date, and the painful truth is that I have absolutely no idea what to do when I get there. This project was supposed to help me figure it out.

If that’s true, then I’m not sure why I feel further away from an answer than ever before.

THE CATCH ARCHIVES, 2017

5 COZY MYSTERIES TO READ THIS SEASON

by Chandler Cohen

I love a cozy mystery. A regular person gets to solve a crime, be a badass, and maybe fall in love by the end. The best part is that you can feel like you’re unraveling the mystery right alongside the main character, which leads to a supremely satisfying ending for both of you. Whether you’re new to the genre or a seasoned reader, here are five of my faves—perfect to curl up with this winter!

Knit One, Kill Two by C.B. Marquez

The first in the Briar Beach Knitting Club mystery series finds one of the shop’s most valued customers strangled by a skein of yarn.

Schmeared to Death by Rose Rubin

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