Page 27 of Love Out Loud

Then, Jessica gasps. “You should write a book!” she exclaims and lays a manicured hand on my forearm. “Shouldn’t she write a book, Len? It would be so funny.”

And then she not only leaves her hand there, she rubs her thumb gently back and forth over my arm.

It’s like shutting off a faucet. The mood at the table suddenly bottoms out. Lark goes still, conspicuously not looking at Jessica’s hand. Which is still on my arm.

“Oh, I think I’ll leave the writing to the experts.” Lark’s voice is flat and a bit sardonic. Like she isn’t quite convinced Jessica fits in that category, and perhaps she should have left the writing to them herself.

Jessica doesn’t flinch at the change in mood. The woman is completely oblivious. “Nonsense!” She leans forward, her hand pressing even further into my arm. “Any idiot can write a book, and you are such a good storyteller.”

Noah eyes me from across the table, his face unreadable. Silas is looking at Lark with moon eyes, either unaware or willfully ignorant of the shift happening right in front of him.

Lark’s lips curl into her fake smile again as she makes direct eye contact with Jessica. “I’m here to tell your story,” she says in the smooth way of someone who is practiced at manipulating an audience. Her eyes meet mine as she continues. “Nothing more.” Then, she gives Noah a soft expression, and that moment is over. “I’d love to talk about the process, if we can. What will be expected of me?”

Noah gladly takes the reins and launches into an explanation of the audiobook recording process, studio time, deadlines, pickups. He and Silas answer all of Lark’s questions. Jessica chimes in with some notes here and there, and when she thinks no one is watching, she finds reasons to make side comments to me. Leaning in, brushing against my biceps, touching my arm again.

I try to shrug her off of me as much as I can, but she’s either persistent or unaware. Or both. It occurs to me that she’s always been like this, and I’ve always tolerated it. Liked it, even, if I’m being honest. I’m not one to shy away from the attention of a beautiful woman. But it’s as if Lark is holding a magnifying glass to it, and now each touch feels like I’m burning as the sun is concentrated underneath it.

Much to my surprise, Silas never acts even remotely annoyed at having to walk Lark through everything like the absolute newbie she is. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I would think he was almost flirting with her, the way he flashes indulgent smiles and compliments her questions. The man acts as if there is an art to question-asking, when all Lark is after is communication.

Something primal and instinctive screams at me to tell him to back the fuck off. That she’s not here for some greasy workplace fling—even as a sick part of me is curious if his hair stays that perfect while he’s banging someone. And then my brain immediately short-circuits at the thought of him and Lark in bed together. My fingers involuntarily curl inward where they rest on either side of my now-empty basket of tacos.

Jessica lays a hand on top of mine as she leans in so only I can hear. “You okay?”

I would be if she’d stop touching me. If Silas would stop mooning over Lark. If Lark would just look at me, but she’s avoiding my eye contact.

“Fine,” I grind out, pulling my hand out from underneath hers and putting it in my lap. “I think the tacos are messing with my stomach.”

“Really?” Lark asks skeptically. “We all ate the same kind, and the rest of us are fine.”

Oh, now she wants to pay attention to me.

“Must have been the whiskey sours at the bar last night,” Noah chimes in. “I was feeling pretty rough this morning, too.”

I frown at him. We didn’t go out last night. I went to bed early and barely slept because I was so excited Lark was going to be with me in less than twenty-four hours. It belatedly occurs to me that he’s giving me an exit strategy. That he’s watched this entire thing play out, has put some pieces together about the four of us, and knows exactly what has Lark acting all prim and proper and me acting like a Neanderthal.

“Yeah, that’s probably it.” I lean back in my chair. “Whiskey and tacos and sunshine don’t mix.”

Lark tilts her head, her fair eyebrows pinching together. “You seemed fine this morning.”

I shrug. “Late-onset hangover, I guess.”

She narrows her eyes and mumbles, “Pretty sure that’s not a thing.” She looks around at the other people at the table, balling up her napkin and tossing it on top of her empty basket. “But I’ve had a long day of traveling and seeing my daughter off to her next chapter.”

Jessica gives a sympathetic pout, and Lark presses her lips up into a thin smile.

Noah stands. “Yes, of course. Thanks again, Lark. I think this is going to be amazing.”

We all say our goodbyes and make our way to our respective vehicles. Silas gives us a little beep-beep as he pulls out of the parking lot. Lark beams at him and waves. I gape at her as she slides into the passenger side of the Jeep.

She notices me staring. “What?” she asks defensively. “He was nice.”

I force my jaw closed, only to clench it as I start the car and pull out of my parking spot.

“You okay?” Lark asks after a while.

“Yeah,” I say, not taking my eyes off the road. “Just a little under the weather.” I pause, then risk a glance at her. She’s staring at a fixed spot out into the distance. “You?”

“Hmm?” She blinks as if waking up from a trance. “I’m fine. Tired.”

Those are the last words we speak for the entire evening. When we get back to the apartment, she excuses herself to her room and shuts the door. A few hours later, I decide to get some work done on another project before going to bed.

I stand outside her door, wanting desperately to knock and see if she wants to grab dinner. But I’m pretty sure I hear soft sobs coming from inside the room. It’s so quiet that I can’t be sure, but I decide not to bother her. She’ll come out to talk when she’s ready.

I make myself a couple of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches. I leave the supplies on the counter for her if she wants one later, then I tiptoe to my room. But I make sure to leave it open a crack so she knows she can come talk to me if she wants.