He nodded knowingly. “You came to the right place. What kind of job? Smart casual? Bit stuffier?”
“A law firm.”
He nodded knowingly as he gave a long once-over. “Right. Let’s see ... You’re probably an extra small on top, and I’m thinking a four for slacks. Maybe a six, depending on the cut. Curves are a blessing and a curse. Size 2 in a dress. Hold tight and just sip that water, sweetie. We’ll get this done.”
I pressed my palms together appreciatively.
I pulled out a navy blazer from the closest display, absentmindedly flipping the tag. I instinctually blinked. I wasn’t in J.Crew anymore.
Is it crazy to spend $600 on a blazer?I texted Emilie.
I could see her immediately typing.
You’re about to make $200,000 a year. Time to transition the Georgetown Law t-shirts to pajamas.
I knew my credit card bill would keep skyrocketing until I got my first paycheck. Even with my split from selling the townhome I owned with Ben, I was going to be one of those people who used their year-end bonus to pay off at least one maxed-out card.
I charged $2,000 at Theory, deeply unsettled when everything fit into two light bags.
Caroline’s building was a short seven blocks away. I balanced the bags on one arm, iPhone in hand, and headed down the iconic cobblestone streets, past the trendy weekend brunch crowd andprivate brownstone driveways. In my loose-fitting white shorts and oversized tank top, I felt like the worst-dressed extra inSex and the City.
Five minutes later, I walked up to an elegant café with a few tables nestled under an awning. Caroline emerged ten seconds later, pulling me in for a hug.
“That’s my building,” she pointed across the street, grabbing the Theory bags. “Oh, you did good! Let’s drop this stuff, and we can pop over to 5E.”
It was the most charming corner in the city.
All week I’d been running around ragged, a girl from the middle of Virginia, hoping to shed my identity as a suburban DC housewife. Never in a million years had I believed there was a chance of finding an apartment here.
My heart was racing as Caroline unlocked the building. She pointed behind us to a group of tourists taking pictures of a brownstone across the street.
“That was Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment.”
As soon as we walked into apartment 5E, I knew I’d do anything to make it mine. Even in its imperfections, it was everything I’d dreamed about. Tiny but cozy, with a galley kitchen that had just enough room to open the refrigerator. It was tastefully outdated in that classic prewar style, with original wainscoting and two oversized windows that looked out over treetops and brownstone rooftops.
Caroline sent a personal reference letter to the landlord that afternoon, and I signed the lease the next day.
I felt dangerously lucky. If karma was really a thing, leaving Ben for a new life should have meant luck wasn’t in the cards. But the apartment was mine. I’d be able to move in the weekend after I started working. Luckily, Jessica was in Europe for the week, so we wouldn’t be on top of each other.
Sunday night, I pulled out the navy Theory dress I’d chosen and draped it over the back of a chair, then rummaged through the closet for the handheld steamer Jessica swore was back there somewhere. I felt overwhelmed by how much had happened in the last few weeks. If leaving Ben meant trading in his happiness for mine, I had to get it right this time.
Chapter Three
I decided to become a lawyer when I was in fourth grade. I readTo Kill a Mockingbirdand felt a kinship with Scout and a deep admiration for Atticus Finch. I was a pleaser, and it seemed like being a lawyer meant always doing the right thing.
That same year, I was cast as Orphan Annie in a school production. The experience was like a drug. I started auditioning for anything I could. My entire identity became entangled in fictional characters from plays and musicals. When I was ten, I went all out for the role of Maria in the town production ofWest Side Story. I wanted it so badly that I believed my love for the role transcended age (the casting director disagreed).
Performing made me feel closer to the world I wanted to be part of, far from a small town and an unhappy homelife. My parents separated for the first time when I was thirteen, then flip-flopped for the next five years, meaning my brother Artie and I spent middle and high school bouncing between them.
The instability at home drove me deeper into theater. I was devastated when my parents only let me apply to state schools. I ended up at the University of Virginia with a plan: If I could hack college theater, I would secretly apply for drama scholarships in New York. I was one of two freshmen cast as nonspeaking fairies in the campus production ofA Midsummer Night’s Dream. My dorm was covered in application materials for the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. Myessays were spell-checked, reference letters were written, scholarship applications were done.
At the end of spring semester, my parents’ marathon divorce finally came to a head, and life changed dramatically. Litigating a divorce for half a decade had drained their financial resources. Neither one was happy with the outcome. It was the end of “supported” life as I knew it. I’d taken on moderate student loans my freshman year, but my living expenses and a large part of my in-state tuition had been covered.
I needed a job to support myself if I wanted to stay in school. I went from wide-eyed college student to pragmatic survivalist. I withdrew my drama school application and switched my major to political science. I found a full-time summer job as a nanny, and when the fall semester started, I condensed my course schedule to two days a week so I could nanny the other three. I waitressed in between.
The toxicity from my parents’ divorce felt boundless. Everything had become muted. Colors. Emotions. Motivation. Even my ambition.
Then, I met Ben.
