Page 11 of The Write Midlife

Hey broski. How's life in the corporate jungle treating ya these days? Eating you alive yet?

Just finished a 48-hour shift at the station and need entertainment that doesn't involve putting out fires (literal ones, for a change).

Nate chuckled, typing back a quick response.

Not yet, but the day's not over. Got a new assignment. Playing editor to a romance novelist.

Alex's reply was immediate.

You? Mr. 'I haven't read a romance book for fun since college'? This I gotta hear.

Give me the details before my next call, or I'll tell everyone at the station about that karaoke incident from 2018.

First of all, low blow bringing up karaoke. Second, I'll have you know I'm very romantic. I once bought a girl flowers... I think.

Sure, ‘Nate the Great.’ Whatever you do, don't tell this novelist woman about your attempt at writing poetry in college. Some fires can't be put out.

Nate snorted, nearly choking on his coffee. If Alex only knew how far from that stereotype Melody's writing was.

As the day wore on, Nate found himself increasingly intrigued by Melody Archer. Her bio mentioned that she lived in Seattle, that she was passionate about writing stories that reflected real-life relationships.

He wondered what she was like in person. Probably a cozy grandma-type. A woman with cats and a penchant for cardigans, he was sure.

By the time he left the office, his head was swimming with thoughts of Melody's stories... and, if he was honest, of Mel from the other night. He knew he should be focusing on how to make Melody Archer's work more "commercially viable," as his dad put it. But all he could think about was how to meet her without coming across as another corporate suit trying to change her vision.

As he hailed a taxi home, he realized he was actually looking forward to tomorrow's meeting. It had been a while since he had felt this kind of anticipation about work. Or about anything, really.

The taxi weaved through Seattle's evening traffic, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of color. He leaned back, closing his eyes. In his mind, he saw flashes of auburn hair, heard echoes of witty banter. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if Mel from the party and Melody the author were the same person.

He chuckled at the thought. What were the odds of that? Besides, he reminded himself, he was here to work. To prove himself to his dad. To make Carlisle Publishing even more successful.

So why did the thought of changing Melody Archer's writing style feel so... screwed up?

The taxi pulled up to his apartment building, jolting him out of his thoughts. He paid the driver and headed inside, his mind still a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

As he stepped into his sleek, modern apartment, he was struck by how empty it felt. He had never really noticed before, always too busy with work to care. But tonight, fresh from reading Melody's warm, intimate stories, the stark minimalism felt cold. Uninviting.

He loosened his tie, dropping it on the kitchen counter along with his keys. Tomorrow, he would meet Melody Archer. Tomorrow, he would start his new role as an editor. Tomorrow, he would take another step towards becoming the man his father wanted him to be.

But tonight? Tonight, he poured himself a glass of whiskey and settled onto his leather couch with Melody's latest manuscript. Just one more chapter, he told himself. Just to be prepared for tomorrow's meeting.

FIVE

The next morning,Melody stood before the imposing glass doors of Carlisle Publishing, her reflection staring back at her like a deer caught in headlights. Her hair, which she had spent an hour taming earlier, was already starting to frizz in Seattle's ever-present drizzle. Great. Nothing says "take me seriously as an author" like looking like she had been electrocuted.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed through the doors and stepped into the lobby. The receptionist, a perky redhead who looked like she had walked straight out of a rom-com, beamed at her.

"Welcome to Carlisle Publishing! How can I help you?"

Melody forced a smile. "Hi, I'm Melody Archer. I have a meeting with my new editor at 2 PM."

The receptionist's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh, of course! Mr. Carlisle is expecting you. Fifteenth floor, room 1508."

Melody blinked. "Mr. Carlisle? As in..."

"Nathaniel Carlisle, yes. The CEO's son." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "And between you and me, he's quite the catch."

Melody's stomach did a somersault. Fantastic. Not only was she getting a new editor, but he was also publishing royalty. This day just kept getting better.