Page 34 of Only Lovers in the Building

“That’s okay,” he said, though his expression clouded. “But only if we still get to do this.”

If by this he meant mornings by the pool and late-night meetings, just the two of them, with the stated purpose to shred a novel apart, the answer was yes. Every club had a managing board, and that’s what they were.

“Of course.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I need to talk about that book now, so I can move on with my life. I can’t wait until you convene a panel.”

“I’ll take you out of your misery,” she said. “Give me a second to grab my copy and I’ll be right back.”

“The door is open. Just come in.”

A quick whirl at her place and she was back, in monogrammed slippers lifted from a hotel in Paris, her copy of Blurred Lines, and a box of mint tea. When she let herself into his place, Lily was struck, once again, by how homey it felt. Her eyes traveled from the crammed bookcase to the desk stacked high with paperbacks, the wire bin holding a collection of laptops from different eras that he ought to recycle, and the frayed copies of The New Yorker magazine scattered on the dinner table. The soft light from the lamps cast a warm glow on all of this. She made a mental note to change her stark-white bulbs immediately.

Ben was in the kitchen, wiping down the counter as she had seen him do at the bar. Occupational habit, no doubt.

She handed over the box of tea. “If you heat a cup of water and a tea bag in the microwave, I’ll have this.”

“You’ve heard of a kettle, right?” he asked.

“Who has one of those?” she replied. “I mean in real life, not on Pinterest.”

He pointed to a well-loved copper kettle sitting on the stovetop. Lily tossed her hands up. “I give up! You win!”

“You don’t take care of yourself,” he said.

Lily dropped onto the couch. “Why should I when you’re so willing to pick up the slack?”

“Too willing,” he muttered.

“Would you consider moving to New York with me?” Lily asked. “I’ll email my landlord to check for vacancies on my floor. I need you close.”

“There’s a reason we met here, and not in New York,” he said. “Frigid winters.”

He filled the kettle and placed it on a burner. “Let’s get into that age gap, Lily.”

“What’s your issue with it?” she asked. “You think they went too far?”

“They didn’t go far enough,” he said. “Justine is eight years older than Mike. That’s no big deal. Men date younger women every day.”

“I agree,” Lily said. “The only scandal here is that the woman was older than her partner. The issue feels dated.”

“Mike killed me,” Ben said. “He was young, dumb, broke, and so fucking cocky. No notes there—that’s any guy at twenty-three.”

“Justine is only thirty-one. Why did she have to be so insecure? That scene when she checks her legs for cellulite before they have sex broke me. Like, what?”

“They fought about money all the damn time. Makes me think the wage gap was the real problem.”

“She outearned him by a lot, and I don’t have to tell you that men are fragile.”

“Why couldn’t she let him pay for the deep-dish pizza?”

“He’d paid for the cab from O’Hare!”

“It was just pizza, Lily!”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you buy me pizza . . . tomorrow night . . . for dinner.”

“I appreciate it.”