He gets back in his car and pulls out into traffic, the night air warm on his face through the open window. He watches her in the rearview until the car disappears out of sight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lilly
The house is empty when she finally gets home, which is surprising—the house is never empty; there’s always someone rummaging through the refrigerator or beaming TikTok videos to the TV or loudly scheduling an appointment with their gynecologist—and the quiet feels almost luxurious, the only sounds the echo of her footsteps on the tile and the beat of her own heart. She changes into shorts and a hoodie, then cobbles together a dinner of cold roasted veg and some almost-stale focaccia left over from one of the restaurants before dutifully carting her laptop out into the backyard, trying to tamp down the bright flicker of dread at the idea of opening the screenplay again. It’s felt like this lately, every time she sits down to try and get some work done: the underwater sensation of getting absolutely nowhere, the dull knowledge that she’s wasting her time.Famous for being famous, she thinks grimly. Lacking a single marketable skill.
She’s not sure how long she’s been staring at the cursor when her phone chirps on the table beside her, a text from a New York number she doesn’t recognize.
You make it home okay?
It takes Lilly a moment to realize she’s smiling, the gesture so sudden and sincere and involuntary that she reaches up andtouches her own mouth to feel the curve of it underneath her fingers.
Still in the tow truck with Lorraine, actually, she replies.We’re considering hitting the road like inTravels with Charley.
Don’t take any wooden nickels, Will fires back immediately.Write if you find work.
Lilly ducks her head even though nobody is watching, her entire body warming with a goofy, middle-school blush. She’d be lying if she said her stomach hadn’t thrilled a little bit at the sight of him climbing out of his car earlier, his dark jeans and V-neck T-shirt and wry, half-bashful expression. She thinks of the long, architectural lines of his body, like possibly he was designed and assembled using the golden ratio. She remembers the knowing rasp of his tongue against her skin.
For one insane second she nearly picks up the phone and texts him again:I’m alone here, she imagines typing, her fingers aching faintly with longing.What are you doing right now?
Instead she looks back at her screenplay for another long beat before closing out the window. Then she grits her teeth, opens a brand-new document, and gets the hell to work.
***
Junie FaceTimes from New York, where she has not in fact taken in any theater but has ruined a $400 pair of suede booties by stepping off a curb into a six-inch-deep puddle of slush. “I ran into Caroline at Bloomingdale’s yesterday,” she reports miserably, curled up on the couch at Lou and Veronica’s; there’s a Hockney half-visible on the living room wall behind her, Miles Davis wailing away on the sound system in the background. “So Charlie definitely knows I’m in town now, if he didn’t already.”
“Assuming your super-chill and low-key Instagram posts hadn’t already tipped him off, you mean?” Kit leans over Lilly’s shoulder, her long hair migrating up Lilly’s nose as she squeezes into the frame.
“What, like the one of me wearing my I Heart NY shirt while riding on the Circle Line and eating a soft pretzel?” June asks, grinning ruefully. “Or the one of me outside the stage door ofHamiltonthat I captioned ‘The Room Where It Happens’?”
“She actually meant the one you geotagged ‘New York City’ in case he couldn’t put it together himself from the context clues,” Lilly teases, “but we do admire the way you’ve covered all your bases.” She smiles. “I mean, who knows, right? He might turn up yet.”
“Or not,” Mari mumbles from her perch in the armchair across the living room. Lilly shoots her a murderous look in reply.
“What did I even think I was going to accomplish by coming out here?” June asks, leaning her head back against Lou and Veronica’s green velvet sofa. “You were right about Caroline, PS, if you want to take this well-earned opportunity to say ‘I told you so.’ From the look on her face when she saw me you would have thought I caught her pawing through the clearance rack at Express.”
“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so,’” Lilly promises, which is true. Mostly she just wants to knock on the door of whatever elegant, minimalist hotel room Caroline is staying in and punch her directly in the vagina. “I never want to say ‘I told you so.’”
June waves a hand in front of her face, like her own heartbreak is a cloud of smelly subway steam she can bat away. “How are things with Nick?” she wants to know.
“Wait,” Kit says, turning to look at Lilly a little strangely, “are you still hanging out with Nick? Because—” She breaks off.
Lilly frowns. “Because what?”
“No, nothing.” Kit shakes her head, goes back to her embroidery. “Just wondering. You hadn’t mentioned him, so.”
“I had not,” Lilly agrees, turning back to Junie. “Honestly, I think that whole thing kind of ran its course pretty quick.”
June wrinkles her nose. “That sucks,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Lilly promises, and she’s surprised to discover she’s telling the truth. She’s been busy since June’s been gone, working almost nonstop on the novel she started the night her car broke down: staying up late and getting up early, fingers flying over the keyboard and eyes gone sandy from staring at the screen.
Also, as much as she hates to admit it, she’s been having a lot of fun texting with Will.
It started a couple of days after he waited with her for the tow truck, her phone buzzing on the counter as she was putting together a weird lunch from a couple of meal kits that hadn’t gone bad yet:How’s the open highway?he wanted to know.
Lilly bit her lip, even though there was nobody around to see her smile.Not bad, she wrote back, thumbs moving slowly over the keys.Really making the most of the all-you-can-eat breakfasts at the Hilton Garden Inn.
