Nearly a 3.
This story settled into me as a slow burn. The angst however, is where my emotional experience twisted. Told through dual points of view, (which at times, I needed to remind myself whose POV it was), we learn about two women who’ve worked side by side for six years, sharing a solid, affectionate professional vibe that’s already rich with trust (the importance of a makeup artists’ work), familiarity, and unspoken desire. Their flirtatious dancing around each other, laced with charming banter and quiet knowing looks, creates their chemistry. I can always get behind the dance 😉.
The angst. There is a lot of it, and while high angst can be delicious when it sharpens longing, here it landed differently for me. Waiting until 41% of the book for their first kiss, “‘Oh, screw it.’ She gripped a fistful of my shirt and tugged me until I closed the gap between us…” (page 113), felt less like a satisfying slow burn and more like an exercise in endurance. One with more time outs as a result of frustration than emotional regulation. I’ve happily lingered in unresolved tension far longer than that in other romances, but this delay felt torturous in a way that dulled the payoff rather than heightening it. The yearning was present, but the emotional release didn’t quite balance the time spent waiting for it.
That said, those early chapters weren’t empty. In that long stretch before the kiss, character familiarity, emotional layering, and genuine chemistry became the heart of the story. But there is still so much more to know of them, and the rest of the book starts to uncover those stories. The stakes, their history, their fears, the sex – fire, etc.
One of the more painful arcs for me was the emergence of the familiar trio: self-doubt, self-sabotage, and the jump-to-conclusions spiral. When it surfaced, it felt like a well-worn romance reflex. It often pulled me out of the story. “Some deep breathing helped. Until more thoughts crept in. She hadn’t told me because she didn’t trust me. She hadn’t told me because I wasn’t good enough for her. I wasn’t enough for her…I wasn’t good enough for anyone.” (p. 218). Emotional intelligence is so sexy and when an author chooses that over self-sabotage it’s a winner. Not that the feelings weren’t valid, or that this isn’t a VERY realistic thing we find ourselves doing, but because the pattern was so recognizable it became a distraction. Almost a disappointment. Noise.
And yet, just as my patience thinned, the narrative would pivot. It was almost back to back. A few pages later, the character would name the self-sabotage for what it was, take accountability, and consciously redirect their behavior in a more constructive way. “Clarity is kindness” said by the MC’s throughout the book. I like this catch phrase so that self-awareness softened the frustration, it didn’t erase the cliché entirely, but it did restore some “feels." Watching a character recognize their own destructive patterns and choose differently does matter, and those moments brought the story back into balance for me. While the angst may not have landed in the way I personally wanted, and the insecurities played out in each character distracted me from emotional gravitas the connection between these two women feels real, tender, and deserving.