Page 140 of Only Lovers in the Building

“Noah,” Kylie called out. “Come talk your friend off the ledge. She’s stuck in the elevator.”

Next thing Lily was speaking with Noah. “Relax,” he said. “I’ll order you a drink. It’ll be ready when you get here.”

Lily gripped the handrail. God bless Jeremy for taking action. If she stayed in this building, she planned on writing a strongly worded letter to management, or maybe she’d start a petition to get the elevators repaired. What was the point of a law degree if you didn’t terrorize your community?

“I’ve got news,” Noah said.

“Yeah?”

“I turned down the promotion.”

That bit of news flipped her upside down. “Are you insane? How can you say no to Saint-Tropez?”

“France isn’t going anywhere,” he said in his blasé way. “I moved here for a reason. I want to be young and messy in Miami. I’m not ready to give up that dream.”

“I get it,” Lily said, nodding. “If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. No one should pressure you.”

“That’s the good news,” he said.

She slumped onto the elevator floor. “Is there bad news?”

“It’s over between Nicolas and me.”

“Oh no,” she moaned. “But why? You’re not moving anymore.”

“That doesn’t matter. We want different things.”

She repeated the last bit of advice, as it applied here, too. “If you’re not ready, no one should pressure you.”

“It’s for the best.”

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“I’m French,” he replied. “I think it’s cool we figured it out. No hard feelings.”

“We should all be French,” Lily muttered.

Noah laughed. “I’ll miss you, silly Lily.”

Like with Al, Lily refrained from telling Noah the truth. She’d break the news to Ben before telling the others. She’d draw on her inner French girl to do it, cool and contained. I’m staying, Benedicto. Do with that information what you will.

“So, um, where’s Ben?” she asked, her voice clipped. “Is he still up there with you guys?”

“He took off the second he heard you were stuck in the elevator,” Noah said with a chuckle. “He’s probably on his way to rescue you.”

It was hard to be mad at a man who had dashed off to save your life. That was when it hit her: it was hard to be mad at Ben, period. He was perfect, neither alpha male nor cinnamon roll. He was simply an amazing human being. He wrote her notes. He brewed her coffee in the morning and mixed perfect martinis at night. He bought her books. He listened with the patience of a saint to everything she had to say. Handsome and smart, with a touch of social anxiety to keep him humble, Ben was perfect. How could she blame him for the sticky situation they were in? How could she resent him in any way? But she did resent him. How could he just . . . let her go?

When the elevator finally kicked into motion, Lily was relieved but not relaxed. She hopped to her feet, ready for a fight. Her fingertips tingled with rage. Sure enough, when the doors opened to their floor, Ben was there, standing stock-still, arms folded across his broad chest, eyes level. She’d never seen him so self-contained, and frankly, it unsettled her.

“You were trapped in there and asked for Jeremy to help instead of me?” he asked.

His tone unsettled her, too.

“Jeremy and I have an understanding,” she said. “Get used to it.”

He strode into the elevator, slammed a button on the panel, and before the doors joined behind him, his hand was in her hair and his mouth was crushing hers. He kissed her with sweet possessiveness. Lily clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. She was disoriented. Were they on their way up or down? How long had she really been trapped in this elevator? What had happened to her tingling rage?

Ben abruptly broke the kiss, leaving her panting. “It’s back to you and me and a suitcase in an elevator, isn’t it?”