Cat Sebastian’s recent Regency historicals were a bit hit and miss for me, but I’ve really enjoyed the twentieth century historical romances she’s written lately, and now, this new standalone, We Could Be So Good, which is, well, just So. Very. Good. It’s set in New York in 1959, and charts the development of the romance between a hard-working reporter and the son of the owner of the newspaper he works for; the cross-class element is mostly in the background (although far from ignored) and centre stage is given to these two guys working out who they are, who they want to be and how to make that happen. The writing is absolutely beautiful; lyrical and insightful with lots of gentle humour and a wonderful eye for historical detail, and the story is extraordinary in its ordinariness – heartbreaking, uplifting and utterly delightful.

Born into a rough Brooklyn neighborhood, Nick Russo has worked hard to carve out a path for himself and has become a reporter at the Chronicle, one of the biggest newspapers in the city. He enjoys his job and is very good at it; he’s sharp, smart and has a good way with words. He’s also gay, and fully expects to live alone for the rest of his life, because that’s the way it has to be. The world isn’t a friendly place to be for queer people – being found out still carries the threat of a prison sentence – and his sexual experiences have been fast, furtive and fraught with a constant fear of discovery. Nick has spent years hiding in plain sight, making sure that when people look at him, they see a guy in a suit who looks just like every other guy in a suit rather than an actual person.

The book opens with a prologue that is one of the best introductions to characters and situation I’ve ever read. Nick, looking for something in the “morgue” (where years of clippings are stored in a mass of filing cabinets) finds another man there, who has somehow managed to get his tie shut in one of the drawers of one of the cabinets and can’t get it open again. It’s Andy Fleming, the somewhat clueless son of the Chronicle’s publisher, and Nick knows he should resent him – he can’t type, he’s doing a job Nick wanted and has probably never had to work a day in his life – but somehow, he just can’t. Somehow, instead, he’s utterly smitten, and ends up taking Andy under his wing, inviting him out for drinks with the other reporters, letting him tag along when he goes out on stories, making sure he doesn’t lose his keys, and generally looking out for him. They’re your classic grumpy/sunshine pairing – grouchy, lonely Nick and scatterbrained, good-natured Andy – and over the course of the next few months, they become good and almost inseparable friends, so much so that other reporters start seeing them as a single unit – NickandAndy or RussoandFleming. That friendship endures, even after Andy starts dating Emily Warburton, a friend of Nick’s, no matter that watching Andy fall for her is one of the most painful experiences of his life.

As weeks turn into months, Andy proves himself to be a more than capable reporter and is now carrying his weight when they go out on a story. But Nick has always known their professional association is temporary because Andy’s dad wants Andy to start taking over the running of the paper, even though Andy is dreading the thought of being responsible for so many people and something so important. He’s well aware of his shortcomings – he’s absent-minded and lacks confidence – the impossibility of living up to his dad’s expectations and his mother’s ability to sniff out a story (she’s a Pulitzer winner), and worries about being entrusted with his father’s legacy. But… it is what it is. And when he realises that his father’s eagnerness to hand over the reins to him is the result of ill-health rather than a whim, Andy becomes determined to step up to the plate, even though he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready.

It’s March 1959 when, after Emily calls off their wedding, Andy ends up moving in with Nick for a night or two… and never leaves. Nick can’t quite understand why a guy who could afford to live somewhere much nicer wants to stick around, but he can’t deny that he’s pleased to have Andy there. They can be friends and roommates and Nick won’t let his inconveinent feelings get in the way and screw things up between them. He’s become so accustomed to feeling as though he can never have the sort of life he really wants that he doesn’t recognise the signals Andy is sending his way and Andy, who is slowly working out that while he does like women, he likes men – specifically Nick – as well, isn’t sure how to go about making his interest known.

Thankfully, the author doesn’t leave them in this limbo of world-class pining and awkwardness for too long, and soon, Nick and Andy are falling into an easy and completely adorable domesticity neither thought they could ever have. Nick, who is kind of still waiting for the other shoe to drop, is surprised at the ease with which Andy has not only accepted that he’s queer, but seems able to accept this quiet life they’re building as their due, and they just naturally fall into the blank spaces in each other’s lives as if they were made to be there. The care and support they show each other is simply lovely – making soup when one of them is sick, cuddling on the sofa to watch TV, bringing home flowers kind-of-accidentally-but-not… it’s one of those stories where not much actually happens, but it doesn’t matter because the focus is solidly on the developing relationship between the two leads, their thoughts, their emotions, their dreams and their fears – and their unfolding domestic bliss is the highlight of the story.

Nick and Andy’s romance is at the heart of the book, but there’s also an emphasis on family – found and biological – who show Nick and Andy that they’re loved, no matter what. Nick comes from a big, traditionally-minded Italian family (who continually ask when he’s going to bring a girl home) and struggles with wanting them to know who he really is, and not wanting to risk being cast out, while Andy still feels the loss of his mother and has a distanced relationship with his father; their slow move towards a greater understanding of each other is another of my favourite parts of the book.

The 1950s setting is superbly depicted and I liked the nod to queer fiction (notably The Charioteer) and could almost feel Nick’s pleasure at finally discovering a novel featuring queer characters that didn’t end miserably! While being gay in the 1950s was still illegal, there obviously were people around who managed to make their relationships work, and the author strikes a good balance between showing the sadness and anger of those forced to hide who they were and who they loved and the joy and happiness of two people finding each other and working out how to make a life together.

There’s a sub-plot built around a story about corruption in the NYPD that Nick is working on and which he pursues despite knowing he could become a target of those plainclothes cops who entrap and arrest queer men. I admit that I’d expected this storyline to have been a bit more prominent, but in the end, keeping the focus firmly on Nick and Andy and having them realising that they would have to make certain compromises in order to be together made the most sense.

We Could Be So Good is an absolute treat of a read, and possibly my favourite book by this author. Pick it up and be prepared to fall for Nick and Andy as they fall for each other – I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Note: The publisher’s blurb for this book has to be one of the worst I’ve ever seen. Comparing books to other books is a common marketing device, but making comparisons that make NO SENSE WHATSOEVER is only going to piss off your audience. The first blurb released described We Should Be So Good as “Colleen Hoover meets The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo in this mid-century romdram” “Colleen Hoover“ has since been replaced with “Casey McQuiston”, but it still makes no sense – McQuiston and Sebastian both write queer romances, but any similarity ends there.  As for the Evelyn Hugo reference… no idea.  And don’t get me started on “rom-dram”.