Page 43 of Only Lovers in the Building

She believed it; she just didn’t want to think about it now. How Belle/Bella had made herself cozy in his apartment was not something she wanted to contemplate.

Ben opened his closet, and she was amused to see that his doors jammed on the glider just as hers did. He pulled out a short black silky robe sliding off a skinny hanger, the kind you buy to leave at a guy’s apartment—just in case. “Will this work?”

She snatched it from him, begrudgingly, yet grateful to Belle/Bella even so. The kimono style robe was perfect. “It’ll work,” she mumbled.

Ben did not owe her any explanations regarding the robe or anything else. If she hadn’t been so absent-minded, hearts for eyes, butterflies fluttering in her chest, she might not have left her keys behind. Presently, she would be in her studio, where she belonged, curled up in bed with a cup of tea and a new book.

“I’ll order dinner while you shower,” he said. “What would you like?”

Lily was starving. They’d gone straight past the busy restaurants along Lincoln Road with their long lines. Now the mention of food had her salivating.

“You never did order that pizza,” she replied.

“Deep-dish it is.”

In the tiny bathroom, Lily tried and failed to get a grip. Ben’s soap smelled fresh, and his toiletries were semi decent. But she couldn’t appreciate any of it. She didn’t even snoop through the medicine cabinet, as reason dictated. She had other things on her mind. She and Ben were going to sleep together. There’d been no talk of him taking the couch or her using a futon. Their apartments were nearly identical, down to the quirks, and unless his leather couch pulled out to a bed, they were going to have to share his. Somehow, she would have to hold it together and not turn into a sex-craved werewolf at the stroke of midnight.

When she finally ventured out of the bathroom, the soft glow of Ben’s many mismatched lamps instantly calmed her. Determined to enjoy this night, Lily tightened the knot of the robe and joined him in the kitchen.

“Couldn’t get you deep-dish, darling,” he said. “The place I had in mind is closed. I hope you’re okay with New York–style from a spot down the street.”

“I’m not picky,” Lily said. “Except when it comes to New York–style anything. So I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m sure you will.” He presented her with two bottles of wine. “This red or this red?” he asked.

“Any red is fine.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re not picky.” He flashed a killer smile and opened a bottle.

The pizza arrived piping hot, and to be fair, it was decent. Although, it wouldn’t rank very high in the city. Maybe it had to do with the NYC water or something, but NYC–style pizza was hard to replicate. She didn’t tell any of this to Ben. He’d been so kind to her, she could leave him to his illusions.

After dinner, she helped him tidy up, then it was his turn to shower. He handed her a glass of wine and a remote control. “Watch, read, or listen to whatever you like. If you’re into games . . .” He pointed out an old school gaming console on the shelf. “The games are in the boxes up there. Make yourself at home. I’ll be in the shower.”

Lily didn’t relax until she heard running water. Even then, she was faking it. When Ben came out of the bathroom in a T-shirt and striped boxer shorts, smelling of fresh soap, she was curled up in bed, glass of wine in hand, book on her lap, seemingly engrossed in a passage that she had not even attempted to read.

“Want to stay up and read the whole book?” he asked.

“I’m game if you are,” she said.

He grabbed his copy of Spring Fever and stretched out at the foot of the bed, his head to her feet. Their bodies formed a perfect ninety-degree angle. Why did she think that spending the night with Ben would be anything but fun?

“By the way, what’s this fine novel about?” he asked.

“I . . . don’t know.”

She flipped over her copy and read the back cover. “Says here it’s a fast-paced, thrilling romance between a political strategist and a newspaper journalist . . . Set in DC in the spring, when the cherry blossoms are in bloom . . . Clive and Celine are tangled in the world of intrigue and half-truths . . . They find passion in each other’s arms.”

He balked. “What does that even mean?”

Lily wiggled her toes, tickling his ear. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“What fun tropes are in store for us?” he asked.

“Enemies to lovers, I bet. Usually with this setup, that’s what you get.”

“I don’t get the appeal,” he said dryly.

“The drama!”