Page 18 of An Unexpected Kind of Love

And there already in a corner perched on a barstool with a drink is Lily, all chic elegance in her cream summer dress with black geometric designs, platform sandals, long blond hair, and cobalt-blue glasses. We met three years ago when she came into Barnes Books looking for art books to help her with background research for an exhibition and very quickly became friends.

I go over immediately, pre-pint, to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“God, it’s good to see you.” I sag into the hug for a moment longer than usual. She wears a soft floral perfume.

“You’re worrying me. Is it your mum?” Lily frowns, squeezing my arm.

Trust Lily for some much-needed perspective.

“No, thank God.” I give her a wry smile. “It’s not Mum.”

‘“Is she okay with the heat?”

“She’s fine. Everyone’s fine,” I say.

“You said there’s a crisis.”

“Well, there is. Maybe it’s a middling sort of crisis, but I will need alcohol to face it. Very unhealthy, I know. But you also know I’m maladapted to life by now.”

She waves me off, sipping her cocktail. “Go on, you misanthrope.”

Despite everything, I laugh.

Before long, I return to Lily with two packets of crisps in my hand and a pint of ale in the other. I sit down with a sigh of relief. “I figure I could at least order appetizers. For your trouble.”

Lily grins. “Trust you to provide. I’m starting to think this is a made-up crisis.”

I shrug a shoulder, words caught in my throat. Even with Lily, it’s taking me a little while to work up the courage to put the last few days into words. “How was Europe?”

She waves a hand airily. “Oh, you know. The usual ruins and crush of humanity. Old world charm. Bedlam in the airports.”

Smiling, I already feel cheered for her company. “I’ve lost track of you lately. I knew about the conference in Rome…”

“Mm, Rome.” She bobs her head. “Then Prague, Spain, and home again today. I just went to my flat long enough to make sure it was still standing and to drop my bags before texting you.”

“Sorry. You must be exhausted. I should have let you rest…”

Lily shakes her head. “When was the last time you texted me with a crisis? Work can wait. I’ve been on the road for ages. The rest will still be there later.”

“How was the art?”

“Lovely.”

“How were the artists?”

“Even lovelier. Shame the ones I met were either married or straight or seventy-five years old.” Lily gives me a rueful smile, stirring the ice in her glass with one of those eco-friendly metal straws.

“Lil, even seniors need love.”

“Not that sort of love. Not from me at twenty-five from someone old enough to be one of my grandparents.”

“So, no luck, then.”

“Not entirely. There was a woman in Spain…” She grins broadly. “She made the work week in Andalusia all the better. Good thing I have another exhibition-planning trip in few weeks’ time.” She raps the dark-stained oak bar with her knuckles. “Now you have to quit stalling and tell me about the crisis. Or no more intel about my Spanish lover. You’re cut off.”

Groaning, I rub my face with my hands. “It’s going to sound terribly daft. Which is fair, because itisterribly daft.”

She perks up, leaning in. “It’s not about Eli, is it?”

---