Page 41 of Only Lovers in the Building

“C. All of the above.”

“I’ll be right back.”

When he returned with cake and beverages, she asked, “How did you get your start in such a niche field?”

Lily was genuinely curious. Who dreamed of becoming a literary translator? What rare breed was he?

“I read a novel by a Colombian author. I was just a kid, and so fucking grateful someone had taken the time to translate it into English. I would’ve burned a fuse had I tried to read a five-hundred-page novel in the original Spanish.”

“You once said you liked to translate things for your grandmother.”

He stared at her, connecting dots. “The interview with Lesly Kennedy,” he said. “I don’t think I mentioned it any other time.”

“Yes, for the World Tribune.”

“I’m impressed. You did a deep dive, Lily. I hope you remembered to come up for air.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve made it my life’s mission to find out who you really are.”

“This is who I really am,” he said.

By that, he meant this bookshop, his books, his collection of pens, his ink-stained hands, his rumpled shirt, rimless glasses, and beer—he hadn’t gone for the sangria. If this was who he was, she liked him very much.

Ben shut his laptop and pushed it away. “I’ll take a chance and ask again. What happened with your job?”

“If I tell you, I’ll lose all mystery.”

“That’s not possible.”

He touched her cheek, ostensibly to wipe away a crumb. Lily was on to him. His hands were always reaching for her, and she was forever turning to him, heart eager, full of longing.

“Want to pick up copies of Spring Fever on the way out?” he offered.

“Here?”

“There’s a romance section downstairs, except it’s practically hidden from view. You might’ve missed it.”

“Ugh! I hate when they do that!” Lily cried in frustration.

“I know the owner. I’ll talk to him.”

They did not leave the bookstore until closing time. With their new book selection tucked in Ben’s backpack, they walked home. The lively promenade crammed with tourists gave way to quiet residential neighborhoods, streets lined with apartment buildings that flaunted their midtwentieth-century heritage. Ben told her about growing up in Miami Beach. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds,” he assured her. His family lived in a cramped duplex, his high school was run-down. He and his friends spent their time biking, skating, and prowling the beaches. Spring breaks were golden. All of Miami was flooded with college girls ready to party.

Lily poked him in the ribs. “Fuckboy! How many hearts did you break?”

“They never stuck around long enough for that,” he said. “I was a story they could tell their friends back home.”

Wait. Had he lumped her in with those girls? She’d announced the exact date of her departure, had even made a joke of it. I’ll be long gone before Labor Day. There’s nothing like autumn in New York. What was the rush? Having lived her entire life in the Northeast, she could use a change of scenery. Besides, if you’ve seen one maple tree turn colors, you’ve seen them all.

“How about you?” he asked. “Where did you grow up?”

“Long Island,” she replied. “It was an ordinary childhood until my father became a judge and local celebrity.”

Lily divided her childhood, distinguishing from the time before her father won a seat on the county court and the following years. Until then, he was an assistant public defender. They’d lived a quiet life. Winning that election boosted his ego. He set his sights higher and higher. He expected Lily and her older brother Patrick to do the same. They’d lived up to his expectations. Patrick had gone into medicine, and Lily had followed in their father’s footsteps, but only so far.

“Your dad is reading Crime and Punishment, by the way.”

“Is he?”