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“I understand.” I shovel another bite of poorly cooked eggs into my mouth. “I’ve done the same. Many times.”
She gives me a small smile, like the fact that we’re similar is comforting, instead of terrifying.
“What would you do? If you were in charge? In terms of content.”
She fiddles with her coffee mug. “The gossip stuff is fun. I’d still do it.”
My chest tightens, but I nod. I don’t want to push her away, even though it’s not what I wanted to hear.
“But I’d do more. The paparazzi gig started as a way to make money. I realized I could make a lot selling pictures to the Post. And we really needed the money. My dad was having health problems at the time, and our health insurance lapsed. It was up to me to make things work.” She sips her coffee. “So I did.”
“I underestimated you,” I say quietly.
“A lot of people do,” she says calmly. And suddenly, I hate that I’m in that group.
“So, what would you do?”
“I’d focus more on the immediate neighborhood. We can’t be all things to all people, but we can be a really important source of information for our neighbors. My dad does a few long-form articles about the city as a whole, but we’re never going to compete with bigger outfits. I’d focus on the Upper West Side, including our celebrity residents.” She gives me a sly smile, and I roll my eyes.
“You’ve raised it to him, I assume? Since you’re not exactly shy.”
“Nailed it. And yeah, I have.” Her face falls and she looks back at her plate. “He doesn’t want to change. Or he doesn’t trust me. He could retire, but he won’t. Because he won’t let me run the paper alone.”
“Have you thought that maybe he doesn’t have anything else?”
“What?” She looks up at me.
“I mean, your mom is gone, right? He’s been a newspaper guy for years. He doesn’t have much else. Plus, it’s your thing. Together. Maybe he’s not ready to give that up.”
Callie is opening and closing her mouth like a fish.
“Something wrong?”
“You’re very perceptive. More so than I thought.” She narrows her eyes at me. “And you might be right. I never thought about it like that.” She sighs and sips her coffee.
“What else would you change, if you could?” Callie is intelligent and calculating when it comes to her business, and I want to hear her ideas.
She perks up at my question, her eyes bright. “So many things. Right now, the website is an afterthought. My dad is focused on these long think pieces that don’t appeal to digital readers. People get halfway through and don’t keep reading. We need more traffic on the site. Gossip, neighborhood news, photos.”
“Ah. Like the photos of me.”
Her cheeks redden. “Yeah. Those do really well. The best, actually.”
I raise a brow. “The best?”
“Don’t gloat,” she says primly.
“Tell me how I’m the best.”
“Well, the photos of Miles do pretty well too. Especially when he goes to events. Those tuxes.” She shakes her head, like she finds Miles attractive. I shove back from the counter. My hand wraps around her wrist, tugging her up, so she’s looking into my eyes. Her pulse thuds in her wrist, and I feather my thumb over it. “Do you think he’s attractive?”
“Why do you care?”
“Answer the question.” Possessiveness is making my insides hot and uncomfortable. I take a long gulp of water to cool the burn.
“Sure. He’s attractive. If you have a pulse.” Her eyes are sparkling.
“Baiting me, Thompson?” I back her up until she’s against the wall. Her chin is lifted, baring her neck. So bold. So smart. Everything I want.
