Page 47 of Only Lovers in the Building

“There’s a book event this afternoon. Want to go?”

They were at their favorite coffee shop on Espanola Way, at their usual table on the patio, in the shade of a yellow tab tree.

They came for the ambience as well as the food. It had the best iced lattes, the espresso drinks that Ben preferred, fresh

baked pastries, the friendliest barista, good music, and a quirky cat that rubbed up against Ben’s ankles whenever he placed

their orders.

They were regulars at this point, stopping for lunch once or twice a week. They’d worked on their review of Crushed Hearts at this table. After lunch, they often returned to the building for a quick swim then spent the afternoon reading. Ben had

committed to stay on at the bar through the end of summer. If he had a shift, Lily would join him there. He’d make her a martini.

She’d take her usual seat at the corner and finish her reading for the week, as Ben would’ve already made quick work of their

book selection. When he had a chance, he’d come over and discuss a plot twist or share a laugh over a particularly funny scene.

They had a running game going, rating the love scenes in tequila shots. A five-shot rating was scorching hot, and only Around Midnight had earned that mark. When their friends came around, they’d order a shot and add their ratings to the list.

If Ben wasn’t working, they’d order in or head out for dinner. Sometimes, Kylie and Noah would join them. Once, Jeremy had

tagged along. All five of them had ended up at a dive bar, playing pool until three in the morning.

Lily tallied these experiences: the lunch dates, the evenings at the bar, the dinners, either at Ben’s place or a local restaurant,

hanging out with mutual friends, reading the same books, and when tired of reading, watching movies projected onto the blank

wall across from his bed. Add to all this their morning-coffee ritual and evening tea followed by a long walk, and what did

you get? It was obvious to her. What were they doing, if not cosplaying as a comfortably married couple?

Although the questions ate at her, she said nothing. Instead, she adopted her mother’s pinched tone. “A book event sounds

nice. Where at?”

“The Betsy,” he replied.

“Really?”

“Yes. The hotel is known for its engagement in the arts.”

Lily brought a hand to her chest. “The Betsy is where it all went down!”

“What happened there? Was there a crime?”

“It’s where we stayed for our corporate retreat,” she said. “Where I walked out of the banquet, fell apart in the sauna, packed

up in a hurry, and quit my job on the fly.”

“Forget it,” he said. “I don’t want you triggered.”

“We have to go.”

“We don’t have to do anything.”

“We have to do this,” she insisted. “I walked out of that hotel in shambles. I want to go back as I am today. Better. Happier.

More secure than ever.”

Ben reached for his espresso cup. “Let’s just skip it.”

“I’m going, with or without you,” she said.

“Doubt it,” he said. “It’s by invitation only. The author is a Nobel laureate, and some important people will be there.”

“We’re going. I’ll wear my revenge dress.”

“Listen, Lady Di,” he said, amused. “Have you considered that the people you’re enacting revenge on are no longer there? Unless

it was an unusually long retreat, they ought to be gone by now.”

“The walls will remember,” she said solemnly.

“You’re out of your mind,” he said. “But I like that line.”

He opened his notebook and wrote it down.

The South African prisoners’-rights advocate, Greyson Aubrey, had been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize some years back. His

recent publication, an antiwar book, had earned him credible death threats. For that reason, security was tight at the evening’s

cocktail party. If you made it past the chaos of the checkpoint, the hotel’s courtyard offered a serene oasis. Despite this,

Lily was agitated. Once she’d stepped through the hotel’s portico, she’d been teleported back in time. Her revenge dress was

the same black one she’d worn the night she’d quit. Coming here was a risk. She could easily slip back into this persona,

get reabsorbed into corporate America.

Those dark thoughts dissipated as soon as Ben stepped close and whispered in her ear, “Are you okay?”

“I will be, in a minute.”

“I’ll give your former employers one thing,” he said. “They picked a cool venue for their retreat from hell.”

It was a storied hotel, built in the 1940s and named after Betsy Ross. To keep things respectable, the event coordinator had

picked this venue over others which were better known for their nightclubs than their historic architecture.

They spotted the elderly Greyson Aubrey seated in a corner with a view of the courtyard. His walking cane rested beside him. He was swarmed by admirers. Lily and Ben thought it best to stay away for now.

They split up. He went to the bar and returned with champagne. She hunted down a cocktail waiter and loaded up on small bites.

They set up camp at a cocktail-height table. This was their MO, for all events from here on out.

“First this,” Ben said, referring to their spread of goodies. “Next we buy the book and get it signed. We circle back for

a second round, and then we’re out of here. Does that sound like a plan?”

Lily raised her flute. “We’ll be in bed by ten.”

He grinned lustfully. “I like the sound of that.”

And so did she, very much.

Their mouths were stuffed with puff pastry when Allison Leigh sailed up to their table, her silver bob glistening in the afternoon

light. “Look at you! My rising stars!”

Ben wiped his mouth with a cocktail napkin before greeting her. “Hello, Allison.”

“Good evening,” Lily said.

“Hello, Lily, my genius!”

“Me?” Lily said, confused.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Allison admonished her. “Don’t dim your light for anyone.”

“I wouldn’t,” Lily assured her. “Ben is the certified genius in our duo.”

“That goes without saying, but you are the revelation of the summer,” Allison declared. “Ben is your perfect complement. I had a feeling about you two. I pat

myself on the back every day.”

“Cheers to you,” Ben said, teasing.

“You listen to me, Ben Romero,” Allison said. “The next time I reach out to you for any project, I want you to remember this

day. I’m great at what I do. I have a nose for talent. I knew you two would be a hit, and I was right.”

“Are you done?” Ben asked, laughing.

“No, I’m not,” she said. “It’s not official yet, but I hear they want you back for a second season.”

“What?”

“I suspect you heard me just fine,” Allison said. “Why are you surprised? You have the top-rated podcast in the region. There’s

no reason to pull the plug. A Summer Love Book Club Series—it’s an evergreen idea. Lily brings the expertise, and you, Ben,

bring the gravitas.”

“Lily is leaving next week,” Ben said bluntly.

“Leaving for where? Mars?” Allison deadpanned. “If not, she’ll likely make it back in time. Besides, this is the twenty-first

century. There’s no need to record in studio. With the right software, you can record the podcast from your bedroom closet.

Think about it. Although, this is what they call a no-brainer.”

“Can you believe this?” Ben asked, as Allison walked away.

What Lily couldn’t believe was his reaction. Lily is leaving next week. Ben had fully accepted her imminent departure. The discussion she was holding out for would never happen. There was no alternate

ending. They were done.

I’m leaving next week, she acknowledged to herself.

It was time she behaved accordingly.