Page 49 of One-Star Romance

“Well,” Gabby said, “we’re considering moving.”

“Really? Where? Still Brooklyn, or is Angus jonesing for Manhattan?”

Gabby bit her lip.

“No,” Natalie said. “Please don’t say the suburbs.”

“The apartment is small with a baby, and especially since we want a big family…”

“But you guys are rich now!”

“We’re comfortable.”

“That’s what rich people say. You could afford a bigger apartment, right?”

“I don’t think you realize how expensive babies are. Any good daycare in the city costs practically as much as college tuition.” She shook her head. “Besides, I want a backyard. I want to watch Christina run around and put her hands in the dirt without having to worry that there’s broken glass in it.”

“Well. Okay,” Natalie said, trying not to sound like a sullen teenager. “I guess you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.” They sat there silently for a moment. Gabby stroked Christina’s hair, and Christina met her mother’s eyes, feeding peacefully. Gabby smiled down and Christina smiled up, as much as one could smile with a nipple in one’s mouth. A beam of pure love extended between them. Natalie felt a million miles outside of it.

“There was something else I wanted to talk to you about,” Natalie said. She took a deep breath, only for Christina to unlatch and let out a gurgle.

Gabby squinted at her child. “You doing okay, sweetie? You done?” Christina scrunched up her face, pawed at Gabby’s breast. “More?” Gabby guided Christina’s mouth back as Natalie sat there.

Another moment passed, then Gabby sighed. “I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“Do you know if your company needs copywriters?”

“What?” Gabby asked, processing. “You’re asking for yourself? Like, you want a full-time advertising job?”

“If I’m not writing my own stories anyway, I might as well have benefits.”

“Your office manager job doesn’t have health insurance?”

“Nope, they give me just under the weekly hours for a full-time employee.”

“Capitalism,” Gabby sighed, shaking her head, even though her husband was a finance bro. “And what about the ghostwriting?”

“Who knows when another job like the Tyler one might come in?” It wasn’t as if Tyler was going to write more books. It had been hard enough finding material to fill up the one. Since finishing with him, Natalie had gotten far along in the process for some ghostwriting opportunities, requiring hours of unpaid work writing samples and interviewing. But she hadn’t actually landed any of the gigs yet. Did she want to hustle her ass off to write someone else’s book?

Natalie noticed that Gabby did not ask if she was planning to write another novel. But on that front, well, Sally Rooney had come along and done what Natalie had been attempting with her first novel, done it far better than she could have. The world did not need Natalie to add redundancy. And, as Angus had so surprisingly brought up, she did not need to attend more parties for books she’d helped create but to which she could lay no claim. Coming home from Tyler’s launch, she’d cried in her kitchen for twenty-five minutes.

“You said that your work nemesis was thinking about leaving, right?” Natalie went on. “You could recommend your real-life best friend to take her place. Imagine: we could eat lunch together every day.”

Gabby blew a puff of air out of her mouth. “I don’t know. Are you sure it’s the right fit for you?”

At Gabby’s unexpected hesitation, Natalie’s hackles rose. “What, you don’t think I’d be good at it?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“I’m sure you could do the writing part.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know.” Gabby pursed her lips. “I’d want to know that you were actually going to care about it.”

“Do you really care about helping, like, Bud Light sell more beer?”

“Yes! Maybe not Bud Light specifically. But overall, we’re helping people who started businesses grow their dreams and connecting the right people with the right products to make their lives better! And fine, even if I sometimes don’t care about the clients, I care about being good at what I do.” Gabby grew animated, her voice urgent. “This job is my place. It’s my passion.”

“I’m sorry, since when has advertising been your passion? I thought it was art.”

---