Page 54 of Only Lovers in the Building

“Am I filling in for a date?” she asked.

It was possible that someone had canceled, and like Kylie, he needed a seat-filler.

“I wouldn’t subject a date to this,” he said.

“Oh?” Lily blinked. How presumptuous of her.

“That came out wrong,” he said. “It’s not a fun event, okay? If anyone would be gracious about it, it would be you.”

“Oh.” She blinked again. What was she to make of that?

“I’ve put you on the spot,” he said. “Forget it.”

“What is this thing?” she asked. “You never said.”

“A dinner at a museum.”

“Dinners at museums are typically galas.”

“I guess,” he said. “It’s for charity.”

“A charity gala?”

An uneasy look passed over his beautiful face. “Unfortunately, yes. I told you I wouldn’t subject just anyone to this.”

“Where I come from, Ben, we take charity galas quite seriously. We go all out. Hair, makeup, gowns, the works. Is that what we’re looking at?”

“Maybe.” He inspected her shopping bags. “What do you have in here? Would any of it work?”

“No!” she snapped. Nothing would work, not even the pair of Manolos, which were a vibrant shade of green. “Don’t worry,” she relented. “All I need is a black dress and red lipstick.”

She had a half hour to get ready. It took Lily no time to shower, slick back her hair, swipe on red lipstick, spritz perfume, and slip on the black formal dress she’d retired for the summer. She might not have the right outfits for happy hour, but a black-tie event was no problem at all.

Ben was waiting at his place. He assured her they wouldn’t be late because nothing in Miami ever started on time. With a tap on his door, she let him know that she was ready. Stunned by her transformation, he let out a low whistle. Flattering, sure, but for her, this attire was business as usual.

“This is the real me,” she admitted.

He disagreed. “The real Lily wears heels and pajamas to run out for coffee.”

She laughed. “That might be true.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Ben drove a midnight-blue BMW convertible, a vintage model from the eighties. It suited him. Everything about his life suited him. His profession, hobbies, apartment, car, and clothes—it all suited him. This was the way to be. Figure out who you are and build your world accordingly. Nothing added or subtracted.

“Which museum is it?” she asked.

“Freedom Tower.”

“Never heard of it.”

Miami had a respectable art scene, and she’d hoped to visit a few of the modern museums over the summer. That was about it.

“It’s a landmark. You’ll see.”

What she saw when they arrived some twenty minutes later was an old-world cathedral, cupola piercing the night sky. It was dropped in the middle of downtown Miami, neighboring modern high-rises, not unlike St. Patrick’s on Fifth Avenue.

“Is it a church?” she asked.