Page 5 of How to Write a Rom-Com

“Plenty of reasons. Maybe she inherits the house from an estranged relative,” I start, referencing a common inciting incident in the genre. “But she’s a big-city lawyer who doesn’t have time to fix it up. Maybe she’s bitter and the last thing she’s looking for is a small-town romance.”

“Hmm, sounds like someone else who is bitter and needs a little love in her life,” Elle adds, winking at me. I make a face that implies that I will be murdering her with a stapler after this meeting.

“Areyoubitter?” Anne asks me, all heads at the table again turned in my direction.

I stare Elle down through the side of my eyes. She giggles. I take a deep breath.

“Just because I’d like to swipe through Tinder and think something other than ‘yikes’ doesn’t mean I’m bitter.” The group chuckles.

“So, what would you do, if you had to live in a small town?” Anne asks, leaning forward in her chair.

“Turn back around,” I say jokingly.

“Be serious, I’m curious about something,” Anne says. I squint my eyes at her, wondering where she’s going with this.

“Anne, I grew up in a small town, remember? I left for a reason.” I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

“I know, I know, but you have no desire to ever go back?” she presses.

I shrug my shoulders. “The change of pace might be nice for a few days, but then I’d probably end up complaining about the lack of restaurants—or the fact that there isn’t a Starbucks within ten miles.”

“What if there was a dashing young gentleman?” Elle adds, looking as giddy about this scenario as Anne.

“There wouldn’t be,” I reply flatly.

“Why not?” Anne asks.

“Because that’s not real life.” Elle knows how much I want to believe in those sorts of notions. Unlike me, she’s always believed in happily ever after. But it’s just been so long since anyone has been genuinely interested in me, that I’m starting to think that the whole idea is a trap.

“What if it was?” Anne shoots back, a mischievous grin on her face. I scrunch my brows. I genuinely cannot make out where she is going with this.

“What ifwhatwas?” I ask.

“What if it wasyourreal life?”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

“What if I sent you to a small town?”

I give her my best “have you gone mental?” look and assess the rest of the room’s reactions. They look as confused as me—except for Elle. Elle looks entertained.

“Don’t say no right away,” Anne starts.

“No.”

“Lucy!” Elle scolds. I widen my eyes at her.

Anne leans her elbows on the table and sets her pen down for the first time since we entered the room. “I just think that the character of a burnt-out, big-city girl moving back to a small town could be a solution to the Ruby issue,” says Anne, smiling.

“I’m not burnt-out,” I protest, crossing my arms. “Just because I want to live in a place where I can get a Diet Snapple, same-day delivery, and a bagel that isn’t sold in a plastic bag in the grocery store, does not mean I’m burnt out.”But being overworked and underpaid in the most expensive city in the country might, I add in my head.

“I’d say it’s called having standards,” Callie pipes up, nodding at me. I shrug in her direction.

“So, let me get this straight. You want to ship me off to a small town?” I ask, turning back to Anne.

Anne purses her lips. “Well, I’m just saying that I’d like to see the end result of an editor going to a small town to believe in love again.” I let her reference to me as an editor rather than an assistant slide. Maybe my promotion isn’t so far back in her mind after all.

“I believe in love. I get paid to believe in love.”

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