Page 32 of Only Lovers in the Building

Noah touched Lily’s arm. “We can’t all quit our jobs.”

That was a fair point, but Lily saw no other option.

“Speaking of books,” Noah said, in an obvious attempt to change the subject that he’d introduced, “I’m almost done with The Sweetest Lie. Two chapters to go. Don’t spoil it.”

“Spoiler. The guy gets the girl,” Kylie said bitterly. “In real life, the guy ignores the girl, barely notices when she walks into a room. All he wants from her is a protein-packed breakfast and his favorite pasta for dinner, stacked in containers in the Sub-Zero fridge.”

“Oh, honey,” Lily said.

“It’s okay. I’ll get over it.”

Lily looked around the table. They were living embodiments of the tropes. Noah, as bold as he seemed, was scared shitless of intimacy. Kylie was in the throes of unrequited love. As for Lily, she was the spinster anguishing over the one who got away. If this was the Regency, she’d cry over his perfumed letters. Sadly, she’d deleted all of Darren’s texts. There was little physical evidence left of their love affair. More realistically, she was the new girl in town, obsessed with her handsome neighbor. That girl would end up in tears at Terminal 4 of Miami International Airport come departure day.

If this were an e-book, these overlapping storylines would tie up neatly around the 90 percent mark, but this was real life. Everything was up in the air.

Desperate to save the night, Noah asked Kylie what she was drinking.

“A sauvignon blanc,” she replied. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s your birthday! We should drink champagne!”

“Hold on!” Lily looked from one to the other. “Is this a birthday dinner?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Kylie replied, miserable.

It all made sense. The attitude, the drama, the low-grade depression . . . This was a birthday dinner, and there was honestly nothing worse. “Happy birthday!” Lily managed to say. “Noah’s right. We should celebrate.”

“I love it when I’m right.” Noah flagged the waiter and tried ordering champagne. “A good bottle, but not too good, within reason.”

“It’s my thirtieth,” Kylie intervened. “I need the good stuff to get through it. You and your fat commission can afford it.”

“Within reason,” Noah repeated.

The waiter gave up. “I’ll send the sommelier.”

“I can’t get over it,” Kylie moaned. “Thirty! Jesus!”

“I just turned thirty, and it’s not so bad,” Lily said with a slight one-shoulder shrug.

Noah and Kylie cut her a look.

Though her track record didn’t set her up as a subject matter expert on aging with grace, she would share what she’d learned these past months. They could do with it what they wished.

“You get clear about some things,” Lily said. “You know what you don’t want and what you won’t put up with. That’s the best I can explain it.”

“I’m thirty-three,” Noah said. “I know what I don’t want.”

“Let’s hear it,” Kylie said.

Noah itemized his list on his fingers. “I don’t want to answer a million questions. I don’t want to meet anyone’s parents or even their siblings. I don’t want to make long-term plans. I don’t want to know my lover’s favorite author, book, movie, or song. I just want to know what they like in bed and what they do for fun. It’s really that simple. I didn’t move to Miami to become some man’s wife.”

“Well, I don’t want to be alone on my birthday,” Kylie said. “I had to practically beg a stranger to come out tonight.”

“Hey!” Lily protested.

“No offense. I’m grateful for you, but can you see how it’s depressing for me?”

“I had dinner with my parents on my thirtieth,” Lily said. “That was truly depressing.”