Page 131 of Only Lovers in the Building

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.