As he let her in and led her through the lobby to the elevator, Holly glanced at the mailboxes: 205 was labeled MEYERS. She had no idea what possessed her to start inventing a story, because she’d told herself to say as little as possible. But following Jessica to the building, and now being inside it, had left her emotionally raw.
“Please forget I said that,” she said. “It’s not your concern.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if you start hitting on me,” said Evan, grinning. “It hurts being the rebound guy.”
She laughed gratefully.
The building, once used for some forgotten industrial purpose, had been completely gutted and refurbished. The elevator was clean and quiet, the halls were carpeted in a tasteful neutral pattern, and the hardware throughout looked sleek and expensive. Evan explained that, while there were some studio and one-bedroom apartments, the most desirable units were the four two-bedroom, two-story lofts, such as the one she was looking at.
“These don’t stay vacant for long,” he told her, turning the key to 204 and pushing the door open so she could enter first.
The space, brightly lit by the winter sun and with a living room ceiling that soared to the roofline, was a designer’s dream of sandblasted brick, massive wood beams, and gleaming countertops. Unfurnished, its hard surfaces made it feel beautiful but stark and cold.
It was literally cold, too. Seeing her shiver, Evan apologized that the heat had been set so low.
She toured the unit while he dutifully pointed out all the features of the 1,400-square-foot unit, from the gas fireplace to the walk-in closet off the master suite to the in-unit washer and dryer. Holly tried but couldn’t picture Jack and Jessica there.
“This is lovely, Evan,” she said. “But I’d feel a bit claustrophobic in a middle unit with windows only on one side. Is there a corner unit available—maybe 205?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, fear he’d already lost his commission written on his face. “Both corner units are leased.”
“Do you think they’ll be there long term?”
“I have no idea about 201, but the lease for 205 runs until August 31—I know because I closed that one myself. I only met the man, but I know a couple lives there because he told me his girlfriend was relocating from out west to be with him.”
Before letting her go, Evan insisted on showing Holly the parking spaces behind the building, informing her they were a steal at $200 a month. She froze when she saw Jessica’s silver sedan sitting where she’d seen it only last night.
Either Jack’s lover had been home all this time, or she’d gone with him on the trip.
Chapter Twenty-Five
LARK
I’m well aware that I’m always being watched.
—“How I Lied about My Name and Discovered My Truth,” a TED Talk by Jon M. Wright
A few months ago, the idea of Lark needing a break from her stressful job would have been a novelty—unimaginable that she’d be working at her own brand-new business. It was happening nevertheless, and her days had been beginning earlier and earlier—and ending later and later—as she worked through the multitude of challenges facing Larkspur Games. Lark was making a growing number of big decisions on her own as Trip’s more pressing business interests limited his visits to the West Coast.
Wanting to unwind and reconnect with her parents—and, truthfully, take a break from Callie—Lark had proposed a Sunday-morning visit to the Beverly Hills Farmers’ Market, the location chosen with her father in mind. Leroy Robinson may have been tall and broad shouldered, and carried himself with military bearing, but he was also completely starstruck and thrilled by celebrity sightings, which was a never-ending source of hilarity to Lark and her mom. Outside of a red-carpet premiere, there were few better places to spot famous faces.
Her mom, Kalani, already had standing plans with her women’s hiking group, but Lark was just as happy for some father-daughter time. With a general plan of picking out some fresh veggies for dinner, neither of them was feeling the least bit hurried.
Despite the gray day, her dad was wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses to make his gawking less obvious.
“Don’t look now, but I’m pretty sure that’s Eva Mendes,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth.
“If I don’t look, what’s the point?” asked Lark, even though she was no more than mildly curious to spot famous actors. Maybe it was a generational thing, or maybe it was because her dad had grown up in a neighborhood famous people never visited. She’d seen enough of them over the years to realize star power wasn’t something they necessarily radiated in the frozen-foods section of the grocery store.
“Okay, you can look now. She just turned the other way,” said her dad.
Lark did her best to follow his vague nods and was successful in locating the dorsal view of a highly toned shopper wearing yoga pants—meaning she looked like almost every other woman at the market.
“Wow,” Lark said appreciatively, glad they were off to a good start. “Kombucha?”
He grimaced. “Knock yourself out. I just hope someone here sells Diet Pepsi.”
As they headed toward a white tent offering fermented beverages, fresh-squeezed juices, and coconut water, he added, “You know, I’ve got a bottle of unfiltered apple cider vinegar at home. You could save yourself eight bucks.”
“Sounds good, but I’m thirsty now,” she said, jabbing him with an elbow.
“How’s work?” he asked, once Lark had gotten her drink. “Have you hired a marketing director yet?”
Their preferred choice was still making them wait for an answer, but both Lark and Callie had been delightedly horrified when Greg-ORY Zapatka had emailed to announce that, after careful consideration, he had decided to accept the job they had not offered him.
Your loss had been Gregory’s two-word reply after she corrected his assumption.
“Our first choice will let us know by tomorrow,” she said.
“Fingers crossed. Oh, I think that’s—never mind.” Words her dad said with some frequency in the city as he realized an attractive woman or man wasn’t
