Page 103 of Only Lovers in the Building

“No! Never!” Lily protested. “I got triggered. I just felt so stuck. That banquet had lasted hours, and I couldn’t just sit there anymore.”

“You omitted this the first time you told me the story.”

“Guilty,” she said. “I felt so stupid.”

Ben raked his eyes over her. “Anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“Only this. There’s no reason to be jealous of Darren.”

“Not true,” he said. “I’m jealous of the space he holds in your heart.”

There was no room for Darren in her heart, not while Ben occupied every square inch. If anything, Darren lingered in the back of her mind, triggering curiosity, but no longing or remorse. At times, she wondered what if? However, she did not lie awake at night thinking of Darren. She did not randomly type his name into a search engine just to see what might come up. She did not think of him first thing in the morning, her eyes still shut with sleep.

“Maybe you misunderstood,” she said. “My mother was infatuated with him. I was ready to walk away.”

“By your own admission, he was your first love,” he argued.

“Well, then, by that metric, I’m jealous of Bella. Plus, you had that forbidden-love thing going on. She’s a close family friend. You would have done better to walk away, yet you were drawn to each other. I can imagine the longing, the pining, the stolen glances, the drama when it ends, and the families left feuding for generations.”

Ben took her dessert plate from her. “That’s the sugar talking,” he said. “Only you could put such a spin on a grim story.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of it,” she said. “That’s always been my problem, I think. My story with Darren was so flat, so easygoing, and I wanted more.”

“I think that’s normal at twenty,” Ben said. “You do things for the plot.”

At the end of the night, Lily did not catch the bouquet. It bounced off her shoulders and was scooped up by one of the single ladies, which was only fair and proper. On the ride home, with a lap full of custom matches and other souvenirs, the ragtop down, and the muggy night air teasing her hair, she admitted to Ben that she’d never had more fun at a wedding in her life.

“Wait till you attend a funeral,” he said. “You won’t recover.”

“So morbid!” Lily scoffed. Then she closed her eyes, hopeful.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Icon was lit and lively when they made it back around midnight. They crossed the lobby, rode the elevator, and walked the length of the hallway. The only question was the classic: Your place or mine?

Ben asked for her keys, unlocked her door, and followed her inside. That answered the question.

“Phones go here,” he said, stopping at her coffee table. “We’re not taking any chances.”

To demonstrate, he pulled his out and dropped it there. Lily lowered hers, and all her other stuff, onto the table next to his. Then, slowly, cautiously, she raised her hands to show him that she wasn’t armed or dangerous.

“Come here, you,” he said, drawing her to him. He removed the silk flower pinned to her hair and brought her curls down around her shoulders. “Tell me how this ends.”

What a question! “I don’t know. Shouldn’t we get started first?”

Lily would not get dragged into a philosophical debate. Not now, anyway.

He looked at her with soft eyes. “Please. I have to know. This can’t end in bitterness or resentment or indifference.”

“How could it?” she asked. “It’s too perfect.”

“Anything can go wrong,” he said. “You’re too smart not to know that.”

“This is different.”

He weaved his fingers through her hair. “This doesn’t feel like a small thing. It feels big. I’d rather do nothing than ruin it, but I have to have you.”

“I have to have you, too,” she said. “I don’t even care if this is a mistake.”