Page 19 of Love Out Loud

Chapter 7

Lark

Did I schedule my flight to Los Angeles at around the same time as Devin’s flight to Munich so I could go with her to the airport and hug her goodbye?

Yes. I did. I have no shame.

In retrospect, this may not have been the best of ideas. I should have gotten her ready to go and sent off to Germany for the first leg of her trip, then come back and gotten myself ready. In my defense, I didn’t want to spend much time alone in our townhouse after she left. I felt like I might lose my nerve if I had any time to sit with my own thoughts. And that may have been true, but the result is one of the most hectic weekends I can ever remember.

Devin was supposed to have packed everything she needed for the first month of school so we could send it out to Richard and have it waiting for her when she got there. I was going to meet her out there after I got back from LA to help get her settled in her dorm and bring anything she inevitably forgot.

She did not, in fact, pack anything. So, a bunch of things happen in very quick succession: Richard and his new wife, Rachel, come in in time for graduation—and a little bit of a vacation away from their five-year-old son, RJ. We watch Devin walk across the stage, we all go to a very nice dinner together, and then Richard insists on taking her shopping for dorm essentials. Never mind that this is my last weekend with her for two months. Never mind that he was supposed to do this with her when she came back from her trip. Never mind that she has nothing packed to send back with him.

But when she pins me with her puppy-dog eyes and promises she’ll do the packing when she gets home, I cave. Which leaves me alone and packing for myself. It would be nice if I weren’t in the middle of about three existential crises.

One, my daughter is leaving for college, and I’m going to miss her like hell.

Two, I still don’t have a bathing suit.

And three, suddenly none of my summer clothes are cute. Which I don’t understand, because they were cute last year.

Three-B would be that I don’t have time to shop, which means I’m going to have to either find two months’ worth of excuses for not swimming or go with Lennon. I’m not sure which is more embarrassing.

Lennon calls, interrupting at least twenty minutes of me standing uselessly in front of my closet with an open—and empty—suitcase. I answer it gratefully.

“What do people wear in LA?” I ask by way of greeting.

“Um…clothes?” is his response.

I glare at his image on the screen. “Can you be a little more specific?”

“Probably not,” he says. When I shoot him another look, he holds his hands up in front of the camera. “Okay, okay. I’ll try. It’s usually warm and dry. Sunny. It gets cool by the water at night or in the morning. I’d say bring some jeans and sweatshirts, shorts, T-shirts, tank tops. Normal summer stuff. The recording studio is super casual, too, so any of those things would be good. And then, I don’t know…pajamas? Leggings? Do women still wear leggings?”

“You can pry my leggings out of my cold, dead hands,” I say flatly.

“Well, there you go. Leggings. Whatever you need to feel comfortable is fine. And I have a washer and dryer in my unit, so you’ll be able to do laundry without much hassle.”

“I just want to look cute,” I admit, scrunching up my nose.

Lennon laughs heartily. “You’re always cute.”

“You know what I mean,” I whine. “I want to fit in.”

He gets serious when I say that. His smile is replaced with an intense look, his hazel eyes piercing through all two thousand miles and a phone screen to send chills up and down my spine. “You, Lark Caspian, never have to worry about fitting in. You’re the one who makes people feel like they fit in, not the other way around.” He leans back, adopting an air of nonchalance, though I can still see his muscular shoulders are tense. “And besides, you’re with me. No one is going to question what you’re wearing.”

“Okay,” I say quietly, then louder and more confident. “Okay. That helps. Thank you.” I start taking some things that seem appropriate for the weather he described out of my closet and place them in the suitcase.

“So, do you mind if we talk business for a second?” Lennon asks as I work.

“Sure.” I pull out a blue cotton sundress and examine it for a minute.

“Yes. Bring that,” he pipes up.

I frown at it on the hanger. “Am I going to need a dress?” What am I thinking? Dresses are good for a million situations. “Never mind. Okay, I’ll bring it.”

“Anyway, the team loved your audition. Jessica thinks you may even be more perfect than the last narrator we had, which is saying something because she’s picky as fuck. Basically, you nailed it.”

I pause what I’m doing to look at him, and I can’t help the grin from spreading across my face. Lennon matches it with one of his own, though his looks a bit more self-assured than mine feels, as if he knew all along I’d nail it. I hadn’t been as sure.