Page 38 of Love Out Loud

“Yeah,” Noah says on a chuckle. “For whatever reason, this book keeps climbing the charts. The audio is already projected to do really well, and making it a duet—”

“With Silas, no less. You’re going to make this money back in a week.”

“Pretty much. But there’s clearly something going on here”—he circles his hand in the general direction of my chest—“so if you can’t, it’s really okay. We’ll find someone else.”

“No, I can do it,” I insist with a confidence I definitely do not feel. At the very least, I wouldn’t want to throw Lark for another loop by having her work with a different editor. This weird desire will fade. I’m sure of it. And worst case, if it doesn’t, I can set it aside to do this for her.

Her tear-stained face coming through my phone screen flashes in front of me. Talking about her life slipping away, wondering how forty crept up on her while she was busy doing a bunch of things she never thought she’d have to do.

She saved me all those years ago by dragging my sorry ass into that Drama Club meeting. And then she kept showing up when I needed her most. The least I can do is do this for her.

Noah is still scrutinizing me as I start another set. “I’m not going to argue with you. You’re the best I’ve worked with, and I want you on this project. But if you need to talk…”

“I’m fine.” There’s that false confidence again.

“Okay, then.” He checks his watch. “They should be done in an hour or two. I’ll, uh…leave you to it.”

I give him a curt nod and stretch out my arms again, but I can feel his eyes on me for another moment before the door to the gym closes behind him.

***

I finish my lift, then take my time showering in the locker room before I make my way back to the studio to pick up Lark. When I get to the door, I pause, looking through the window. Noah is there, working on something in the corner of the room, but the first thing I really see is Lark and Silas outside of the booths, chatting. He leans in to say something to her, and her face breaks out into a grin. Her shoulders shake as if she’s giggling, then she looks down. Her long eyelashes brush her cheeks, flushed a pretty pink.

She’s practically vibrating. It’s obvious even from here. The relief I feel at seeing clearly that she must have had a great day is quickly overshadowed by white-hot jealousy when Silas tips his body even closer to hers and says something softly into her ear. Lark’s smile turns shy, and her shoulders turn inward in a bashful way. She tips her blue eyes up to his, and they look at each other for a beat.

Holy shit. They’re flirting.

And I know—I know—I should let them. Lark hasn’t dated a ton of men since Richard, but they’ve ranged from dead ends to downright shitty. She deserves someone like Silas, with his Southern charm and his perfect hair and his tight T-shirts and his raspy voice.

But my brain isn’t driving right now, so I push open the door as hard as I can without seeming like a caveman coming to club this guy and take his woman out of here.

“Hey, Songbird.” It’s a shameless use of my nickname for her. I might not knock Silas out, but I will stake a claim by reminding him I have a nickname-level relationship with her and he doesn’t.

It only takes a quarter of a heartbeat for Lark’s entire body to light up in my presence. It’s so instantaneous that it takes me far longer to process her body language than it does for her to show it. Her spine straightens, and she bounces to the tips of her toes as her eyes go round and her grin grows wide.

I’m the one who makes her look like that, I realize. And I like it far too much.

“Hey!” she exclaims. She sounds girlish in her excitement, like she used to after a really great rehearsal when everything clicked and she was riding a high. “Oh my god. I cannot wait to tell you about today. Let me get my stuff, and we can head home, okay?”

Home, I think dully as she goes into the back room to gather her things. Could this be her home? Can I even dare to hope for such a thing?

But I don’t have time to dwell on it, because Silas comes forward to shake my hand in greeting. “Lennon. I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure,” I say distractedly.

“Lark. She’s single?”

Everything stops, like a record scratching to a halt. “What?”

“I was thinking of asking her out.” He looks toward the door she disappeared behind and runs a hand through his hair. It doesn’t move. Noah clears his throat loudly and pointedly from the other side of the room.

I cough a few times, trying to dislodge whatever just landed in my throat. “Oh,” I manage, then cough again. “Sorry. Right. Yes. She’s single.”

Silas smirks as he watches me try to collect myself. “You okay?”

No. “Yeah. Worked hard at the gym is all.”

“Okay,” he says, clearly skeptical. “I wanted to take her to a nice dinner or something, if you think she’d be interested.”

I hope not. “I don’t want to speak for her. But she’s only here for a few months,” I warn. I say it to deter him, but the reminder sends a sadness through me that sags my shoulders and steals my breath.

“Really?” Silas frowns at the door to the back room. “Interesting.”

Thankfully, Lark comes bounding out just then. “Ready?” she asks, breathless and full of joy.

Her happiness is contagious. It always has been. It fills me from the inside out and takes the edge off these tumultuous feelings that have been at war all day.

I offer her my arm, and she takes it. Little bursts of sunlight tingle in the crook of my elbow where she touches me.

“Ready,” I tell her. We toss a wave to Silas on our way out, and I try very hard to ignore the knowing glance Noah throws my way as we make our way into the bright, sunny afternoon.