We’ve never got on. Actually, that’s a lie. I have nice memories of my childhood, but they faded at some point in my teens when I slowly became a repeat disappointment to them while my older sister, Juliet, became the golden child who could do no wrong.
My mum and dad are partners in different law firms—both brilliantly successful, highly driven, tough-as-nails workaholics. One of the worst things about us not seeing eye to eye is that I still remain weirdly proud of their success, even with the knowledge that they see me as a total letdown.
I think they thought I was joking when I first told them I wanted to apply for journalism courses after school. They had always assumed I’d complete a law degree, like Juliet. They made no attempt to hide their disapproval and disappointment.
With her perfect grades, Cambridge degree, and a job at a top London law firm straight out of university, Juliet was, and still is, our parents’ pride and joy. She and I are very different people and have never been close, despite only being two years apart in age. She’s quiet, straightlaced, and standoffish, looking down on me as much as our parents do. She never paid much attention to me when we were growing up, and she had absolutely no time for me once she was a hotshot lawyer in London. I never hear from her and we only speak at family gatherings, and those conversations are painful and dry, sharing no personal information whatsoever. She is completely uninterested in anything going on in my life, so I’ve learned to feel the same way about her.
When I started interning as a journalist, my mum said I was being irresponsible because the entry-level jobs paid so little. When I got my first journalism job, as junior celebrity writer atFlairmagazine, my dad said he hadn’t imagined my education would surmount to writing sleazy stories about cocaine-fueled wannabes. And when I landed my current celebrity editor job atNarrative,I sent them a message saying I would now be writing sleazy stories about cocaine-fueled wannabes for more money.
They didn’t reply.
Every now and then we have these dinners where Juliet sits in silence and my parents ask me where I think my life is going and whether I’ve realized yet that I made a huge mistake.
But I love my job. I’mhappy.
I just wish that was enough for my parents.
By the time I’ve made it up the stairs of Waterstones to the first floor, there’s a round of applause for the end of the reading, so I loiter at the back and join in the clapping. The publicist spots me and gives me a warm smile when I introduce myself, before encouraging me to help myself to a drink if I’d like and to be sure to speak to her or the MP if I have any questions, as they’ll both be doing the rounds.
Making my way through the mingling crowds to the drinks table, I reach out for the last paper cup of warm white wine at the same time as someone else does. We both retract our hands quickly and glance at each other to apologize.
I look up into the blue eyes of Ryan Jansson.
At least he looks as shocked to see me as I am to see him. I’m not the only one caught off guard here.
“Sorry,” he mutters.
“You have it,” I tell him brusquely, gesturing to the cup.
“You can have it,” he replies.
“I insist.”
“Iinsist.”
I glare at him, inhaling deeply.God,he’s annoying.
“Fine. I’ll have it, then.” Taking the cup while he reaches for a red wine, I’m ready to leave his vicinity as soon as is humanly possible when he decides to make conversation.
“I didn’t think you’d be here,” he says, putting his spare hand in his pocket and turning to scan the room of journalists.
“Why?” I reply defensively. “Because it’s too high-brow for the magazine?”
He frowns. “No. Because I thought it would be covered by the books editor.”
Ryan Jansson is very good at being condescending and trying to conceal it with his charm and sex appeal, but I know better.
“We don’t have a books editor, as you know,” I say pointedly.
“I didn’t know that, actually.”
“Why isn’t the newspaper’s books editor here?” I retort.
“She is here.” He points at a woman across the room.
“Oh. Well, why are you here, too?”
“Because he’s had some colorful experiences,” he claims, nodding to the MP, who is chatting away cheerily to a circle of people. “I think it will make a nice feature—the book release and an interview with him.”
