Stopping to buy a cookie the size of a salad plate, he broke it down the middle and offered her half.
“You do realize that’s vegan and gluten-free, right?” she told him.
“Ah shit,” he said, crestfallen.
After the first bite confirmed his suspicion, and Lark told him she didn’t want any, he discreetly slipped the remains into a nearby trash can.
“And are things going okay with Trip?” he asked, brushing crumbs off his hands.
“Definitely.”
“Seeing a lot of each other?”
“When we can. It’s a bicoastal relationship—I’m here, and he lives on Lake Michigan.”
“It’s getting a little weird that your mom and I still haven’t met him. He’s obviously a very important part of your life.”
“I know, Dad, and I’m sorry. He wants to meet you, too.”
A white lie. It wasn’t like Trip didn’t want to meet them, but neither he nor Lark had made it top priority for their increasingly rare evenings together.
As they slowed down to navigate a small cluster of people in front of a tent selling naturopathic products, her dad craning to scan every face, there was a clopping behind them, and they had to move out of the way for a pony led by a man in a John Deere T-shirt. On the pony was an adorable little girl in a frilly blue princess dress, and following along behind were a familiar-looking man and his familiar-looking wife.
“Did you see that?” her dad breathed as the procession went past. “John Legend and Chrissy Teigen.”
Even Lark had to admit it was a pretty good celebrity sighting, though she didn’t whip out her phone and surreptitiously start taking photos like he did.
“I think you’re mostly getting horse butt,” Lark told him.
“I got some Chrissy Teigen butt, too,” he said. “Don’t tell your mom.”
Lark waited patiently until he was done and then talked him into splitting an open-face bagel sandwich with avocado and harissa. They ate as they went, walking carefully and watching for pony poop.
“So, is it serious?” he asked. “It sounds serious.”
She nodded. “Very serious. Almost too good to be true. Callie’s not so hot about him, though.”
“She’s probably just looking out for you. I know he’s . . . a bit older than you.”
“Uh-huh.” Thinking: Way to keep a secret, Mom.
“You told him your dad is a six-foot-one killing machine, right?”
“God, Dad. How did you ever end up with a hard-core feminist like Mom?”
“You know I’m kidding, Lark.”
“I know. But answer the question anyway.”
Her dad looked thoughtful as he finished his bagel in two huge bites, chewed, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “When I met your mom, I thought she was too good to be true, but she didn’t feel the same way about me. She definitely took some convincing. Sometimes opposites attract, and sometimes the appeal is being with someone just like you. I think the most important thing is that you give yourself to someone who allows you to be you. Even better, more you than you were before.”
“Very profound, Dad.”
He grinned. “I think so. Now I seriously need that Diet Pepsi.”
They left the farmers’ market half an hour later, planning to reconnect and cook a family dinner that evening. Her dad’s presence had been reassuring in a way Lark couldn’t quite put her finger on. Maybe it was just knowing that true love could last.
The only problem with Trip, she thought, is that there isn’t more of him to go around. She had no idea how someone who made her feel so good could be so unconvincing to Callie.
She called him while she drove home.
He answered on the third ring. “Larkspur Games, field sales.”
“This is your boss calling.”
“If it’s about those expense reports, I can explain.”
His connection seemed staticky. There was a surging noise that rose and fell.
“Where are you?” she asked, breaking character. “It sounds like the beach.”
He laughed. “I wish. Just traffic. How are things at the home office?”
“I’m okay, I guess. I miss you, and I’m frustrated because we’re not together.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” she told him, trying to mean it. “The most important thing is that we allow each other to do what we need to do and be who we need to be.”
“Beautifully said. But you sound worried.”
“I guess I kind of am,” she confessed. “Do you ever get the feeling that what we have is too good to be true?”
“You do realize there’s no logical weight behind that phrase, don’t you?”
“I know. I’m sorry. It’s been hard being alone so much.”
“We’re in this together,” he said, with an earnest tone that helped her believe it. “And there’s no such thing as too good to be true.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
JESSICA
I have a passion for mergers and acquisitions.
—“How I Lied about My Name and Discovered My Truth,” a TED Talk by Jon M. Wright
Jessica had been to dusty Nogales several times and vacationed in laid-back Puerto Peñasco once, but she’d never had any particular desire to visit Cancún. Part of it was that she’d grown up surrounded by sand, sunshine, and Latino culture in Phoenix. Mostly, though, she associated the place with the pre– and post–spring break chatter of party-hearty sorority girls whose conversations were peppered with, “Cancún is, like, so lit!”
But as Jessica relaxed in her own private cabana on the white-sand beach, sipped a slushy mango margarita rimmed with smoky chili powder and salt, and gazed out at the honest-to-god turquoise sea, she had to admit those ditzy girls with Greek letters on the asses of their underbutt-baring shorts were onto something. And they’d stayed at the seedy strip of downtown hotels known for hosting weeklong, all-you-can-drink bacchanals for horny college students, not the stunning White Sand Resort. Jon had lifted her out of blustery, arctic Chicago and set her down in an all-inclusive, five-star heaven.
“Your job,” he’d told her while he knotted his tie and she headed for water yoga, “is to relax and recharge while I give this speech and shake a few hands.”
“And what
