Page 71 of Only Lovers in the Building

“Get into what . . . exactly?”

“The review. Why? What were you thinking?”

“The review! Obviously.” She picked up a brass letter opener from the desktop and slid a finger along the dull blade. “But let’s order lunch first.”

“Agreed.”

When the food arrived, they migrated to her apartment. He brought over beer, and she opened cartons of hummus, falafel, and couscous. It was still drizzling out. They talked and ate. After lunch, Lily got her iPad and opened the BookTap app. “Let’s do it.”

Ben had a notebook with him, but no pen. Lily pointed to her nightstand. “Check the top drawer. There should be one there. I’ve been journaling in the morning.”

“Ah. Healing your inner child?”

“Nope,” she answered. “Let’s leave that girl alone. She’s been through enough.”

“If you say so.”

Lily watched him rummage through her drawer for a second, then it clicked. Before she could yell for him to stop, Ben had found the ballpoint pen lifted from the resort and every note he’d ever written her, including the one left at her door this morning.

He turned to her, grinning. “Lily! You’ve kept them.”

“It’s nothing,” she blurted. “I meant to toss them out.”

“Should I?” He gestured to the trash can in the kitchen, only steps away.

“No,” she said, tapping blindly on the iPad screen. “I’ll recycle them at the end of the summer. It’s more efficient that way.”

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble for me to dispose of these.”

That grin! If only she could slap it off his face.

“Put them back, Ben.”

“As you wish.” He dropped the notes into the open drawer and slid it shut. Then he joined her on the couch. “Do you reread them at night?”

“Ben! If you don’t stop . . .”

He doubled over with laughter. “You don’t know how happy this makes me. You keep my notes. You treasure them.”

Lily looked up to the ceiling, which could use some dusting. “Yes, I treasure them,” she said through clenched teeth. “Girls don’t get notes every day. It’s sweet.”

“I’ve said it before. You’re a romantic.”

He said it like some might say You’re a Gemini or something equally problematic or disturbing.

“What gave it away?” she asked. “My Jane Austen fan club membership?”

“Jane was a realist, not a romantic. We can get into that another day if you’d like, but you are the real deal.”

He had a point about Miss Austen: she knew when to rein it in. A woman with no prospects had to settle for what she could get, and there was no guaranteed happy ending.

“Once I get back home, I’m checking myself in.” She had to rid herself of this disease.

“Why?” he asked. “It’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s delusional,” she said. “Even my friends who fall in love and get married are, to some degree, more clear-eyed about the venture. I’ve been to the weddings! The anxiety is palpable. So much can go wrong, and they know it. They’re not flinging joyfully into the future.”

“You want to fling into the future with someone?”