'We Could Be So Good' by Cat Sebastian
- Reed
- Jan 16
- 2 min read
Author: Cat Sebastian
Rating: A-
Vibe: 1950s newsroom slow burn with lasagna, longing, and a side of queer history
There's a specific kind of queer love story that doesn't need a villain or a ticking clock to break your heart. Sometimes it's just two men in 1950s New York, falling for each other in a world that would destroy them if it found out. We Could Be So Good lives in that space—quiet, tender, and achingly aware of what's at stake.
Nick Russo is a scrappy Brooklyn reporter who's clawed his way onto the city desk of the Chronicle. He's grumpy, guarded, and has exactly zero interest in getting close to anyone—especially not Andy Fleming, the publisher's scattered, sunny, utterly disarming son. But Andy has a way of burrowing under Nick's defenses, and before long, Nick is making him soup, keeping track of his keys, and falling completely, hopelessly in love.
Their dynamic is adorable and so much fun to watch unfold. Nick is all sharp edges and protective instincts; Andy is a bisexual disaster who can't find his subway tokens but somehow makes Nick softer just by existing. The grumpy/sunshine pairing isn't new, but Sebastian makes it feel fresh because it's grounded in real tenderness—these two genuinely like each other before they love each other, and that foundation makes everything that follows feel earned.
What makes the book heartbreaking—and heartwarming—is the way Sebastian weaves in the reality of being queer in that era. The hiding. The danger. The way Nick keeps his family at arm's length because they don't know who he really is. It's not heavy-handed or preachy; it's just there, woven into the fabric of their lives in a way that feels painfully authentic. This author did her research, and it shows. As someone who remembers my own coming out, the way Nick navigates his family hit close to home.
Let me be honest about what this book isn't: it's not a page-turner. It's not going to keep you up until 3 a.m. desperate to know what happens next. And it's probably not going to sit with you for weeks, making you rethink your life. The plot is thin—mostly just two people figuring out their feelings and their futures—and if you need high stakes or constant momentum, this might test your patience.
But here's the thing: that's not what Sebastian is going for. This is a warm hug of a book, and the longing and yearning are what make it work. The romance feels so authentic—the slow realization, the quiet domesticity, the way they build a life together in the margins of a world that won't let them exist openly. By the end, I wanted to be a guest at their next dinner party. I wanted Nick to make me his lasagna. I wanted to exist in their little corner of 1959 New York, where love is possible even when it has to stay hidden.
If you're looking for comfort reading with a queer history backbone, We Could Be So Good delivers. It's tender, it's hopeful, and it reminds you that even in the hardest times, people found ways to love each other fully. That's worth something.