Page 5 of Only Lovers in the Building

“Come on,” he said. “You can trust me.”

Lily gave the martini glass a little swirl and thought it over. A minute ago, she’d told Noah the truth without flinching. The big difference was she wasn’t trying to impress Noah. If a decade of happy hours had taught her anything, it was this: emotionally unloading on a bartender would not get you laid. Not that it was her objective in this case, but why cancel it altogether? She offered him a version of the truth. “I’m on sabbatical.”

“Are you in academia?”

“No. I’m taking a break from corporate America.”

“Congratulations,” he said. “Are you sure he’s not your type? He’s corporate, too.”

Across the bar, the suit was downing shots and miming tossing money. Lily shuddered. “Thanks, I’ll pass. He’s not my type.”

He folded his arms on the bar again, keeping a respectful distance, but just close enough. “So who is?”

If her life were a novel, the dominant trope would be Good Girl Gone Bad. She’d never met a dark-haired, tattooed guy in a tight T-shirt she didn’t like. The one exception had been Darren, the all-around nice guy. Since she left him, it had been a parade of losers, one disastrous affair after another. One broke her heart, but that was to be expected. One had dated her for her apartment. Another stole her identity and ruined her credit. She got ghosted, gaslit, lectured on her spending habits, and ridiculed for her taste in books. She’d sworn off men after that and lived a chaste and pure life, the kind the nuns of her former Catholic school would approve of. For the most part, it had served her well. She’d applied herself to her career, soaring to new heights, only to crash into the glass ceiling.

The bartender was waiting for an answer. Now that it counted most, Lily couldn’t bring herself to spin the wheel of truth. She couldn’t even hold eye contact. Therefore, she punted. Lily lowered her eyes and finished her martini.

“Another round?” he offered.

“No,” she said, far too quickly.

His face remained impassive, but deep in his eyes, amid the swirling neon colors and the glimmer of amusement, was sparkling certainty. He knows, she thought. He knows he can get it.

Her phone chimed with the message she’d been waiting for. The studio is ready. Meet you in the lobby.

“That’s it for me,” she said, grateful for the excuse. “I have to go.”

“All right, ma’am. Do you need a ride?”

“No, thanks. I’m sorted.” She grabbed her large tote and the handle of her small suitcase and stepped away from the bar.

“Need help with that?” he asked.

“I can manage! Thanks again! Good night!”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

She dashed across the terrace, head low, clutching the handle of her suitcase as if it held the nuclear codes. She made her way to the elevators and punched the Down button, furious with herself. If every hot bartender in Miami made her fluster, how was she going to survive the summer?

Lily stepped into the elevator just as she heard him call out to her. At least she thought she’d heard him. The martini had kicked in, and the world had gone soft at the edges. She should not have downed the cocktail on an empty stomach. Her last meal had been halfa club sandwich at the airport.

“Ma’am! Wait!”

It was him. He chased her into the elevator. The doors sealed shut behind him, the car started its rocky descent. It was an awkward situation to be sure, but Lily was consumed by other thoughts. “Do you have to call me ma’am?”

This was the fourth time, and she was having none of it.

He drew a shaky breath. When he spoke, his voice was even. “At the bar, I can’t keep names straight, and you strike me as a woman who wants respect.”

What gave him that impression? Was it the cashmere?

He held up her money clip. “You forgot this.”

“Oh.” She cleared her throat, somewhat embarrassed, yet determined to see this issue to its painful end. “My name is on it.”

The silver clip was a law school graduation gift from her father. Her full name was engraved in cursive letters.