Page 79 of Only Lovers in the Building

“In a way,” she said. “I’m in corporate law, so I know my way around the four corners of a contract.”

“Thanks for the free advice,” he said. “It’s free, right?”

“Aw, that’s so cute!” She tapped him on the arm. “I’ll slide my invoice under your door.”

Just then, the elevator bounced and continued its ascent. Lily held her breath until the doors slid open on their floor. “Good God,” Lily cried. “I’m so relieved.”

“Told you,” he said. “This happens at least once a month. If you’re ever alone, don’t stress out. Just press the button, and they’ll get it working in ten to fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks, but I’ll stress out anyway, if that’s all right with you.”

Jeremy carried her bag to her door. Then he handed her a card with his number. “Here,” he said. “In case you’re stuck in there, stressing out, just call me, and I’ll get the building manager to get off his ass.”

“Thanks.” He was halfway down the hall when she called out to him. “What are you up to later tonight?”

“Nothing much. What do you got going on?”

“Ben and I are celebrating our new podcast. Kylie is cooking. If anything, you’ll get a free dinner.”

“Sounds good. What time?”

“Seven, at Noah’s apartment.”

“I know the place. See you then.”

Inside, Lily washed and stored the fruit, set the roses in a jar of water, and sent a quick text to Kylie alerting her that there would be one more for dinner. Then she sat with a cup of tea and her journal to jot down a few lines.

Love Bomber

The landscape of modern love has changed since the nineties, a time when women sat by their phones on Friday nights. The only thing to worry about was whether Mr. Big would commit. Lately, a new crop of genetically engineered men has invaded the dating field. Let’s discuss the tactics of the Love Bomber.

This man isn’t afraid to give you his number or make weekend plans. He reserves the best table at your favorite restaurant, books flights for weekend getaways. He’s into whatever you’re into: art shows, the opera, whatever. He’ll send you flowers and gifts just because. He acknowledges Valentine’s Day as a legitimate holiday and knows which chocolates you prefer. This goes on for weeks, and it doesn’t take long before you’re hooked. The group chat is buzzing. I think he’s the one and OMG!!!! I love this for you, babe! You’re giddy. You think he might propose. You leave a ring out just in case. Then the missile hits its target. The sky is aglow: for a split second, you believe it’s the Fourth of July. By the time you recover from the blast, you’re coated in ash and regret. He’s fled the scene and narrowly avoids the atrocious aftermath, the sight of you on the ground, your heart bleeding out.

I’m writing from experience. It took a while to recover. I swore I’d never fall victim again, but, of course, I did.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Noah had the largest apartment, a two-bedroom unit on the tenth floor with a slim balcony on which he vaped while scrolling dating apps. Perfect for parties.

Lily showed up alone. Ben had been tapped to help Kylie move her heavy Le Creuset collection, among other things, from her third floor apartment up to Noah’s. They’d agreed to meet there, and by the time she arrived with an armful of books, gifts for the guests, she was antsy to see him. They’d been apart the whole day, a rarity now.

Noah greeted her at the door, more handsome than she had ever seen him. His dedication to the sun had caramelized his complexion, and his hair was slicked back and gelled in place.

“Hello, you!” Lily said.

He unburdened her of her load. “What’s all this?”

“Our next book club read. Boss Babe by Gloria Hernandez. A spicy sapphic. It’s a good one.”

“Sapphic . . . Cool.” Noah dropped the bookstack on the entryway table. “Listen,” he said, a bit panicked. “He’s here.”

“Ben?”

“Nicolas.”

“Um . . . Mr. Slow Burn?” she guessed.

Noah looked as if he might explode.