Page 16 of Look on the Bright Side

“She is a sex worker!” Robbie crowed. “I knew you were too good to be true, Lark!”

“Can you not say ‘sex worker’ in front of the girls?” Nicole asked.

“What’s a sex worker?” Imogen asked. “I want a sex worker!”

With a sharp sigh, Nicole rose from the table and took the girls by the hand into the kitchen, accusation trailing like fog behind her.

“Obviously, I’m not a sex worker,” Lark said. “It’s just…he…well, he’s going to maybe help me with some introductions at Dana-Farber, that’s all. As a favor.”

“Why does he need you to pretend to be his girlfriend?” Mom asked. “That sounds unethical.”

“Not exactly his girlfriend,” Lark said. Crap. “More like someone he might be dating.”

“And what is the difference?”

“Uh…we’re not serious yet.”

“Why does he need anyone at all?” Winnie asked. “Being single isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“Agreed,” Lark said. “But his grandmother is really old, and he wants her to think he’s…settling down. For her peace of mind, before she dies.”

“Rom-com city!” Robbie said. He raised his hand for a high five, and Grandpop obliged.

“So you’re lying to an old woman,” said Mom.

“It sounds so bad when you put it that way,” Harlow murmured. “I liked the way Lark said it better.”

“Thanks,” Lark said. “I seriously doubt we’ll fall in love, because he’s”—horrible—“not my type.”

“Someone has to be your type again, honey,” Dad said. “You never know.”

“I do know. Thanks, Dad. I think.”

“No one could take Justin’s place, Lark,” Dad said. “We know that. Doesn’t mean you can’t fall in love again.”

There was a moment of silence at the mention of Justin’s name. Winnie reached past Grandpop and patted her shoulder awkwardly.

“Right,” Lark said. “Thanks. Yes, well, anyway, I’d love to keep this a secret from Justin’s parents, okay? No need for them to know. It’s basically me going to a few pre-wedding events, meeting his family, the wedding itself, and that’s it.”

“Why would we tell the Deans?” Winnie asked. “We won’t say a word.”

“What’s his name?” Addie asked.

Lark looked at her. “Uh…Lorenzo Santini.”

Her twin raised an eyebrow. “The anal fissure guy?”

This was the problem with telling a sibling everything. Especially a sibling with a wicked good memory.

“This just gets better and better,” Robbie said. “The anal fissure guy! What a title! I can’t wait to meet him.”

“You won’t meet him,” Lark said. “But yes.” She looked at her parents. “He grilled me about…well, about anal fissures on my surgical rotation.”

“Lorenzo Santini,” Dad said. “The one everyone called Dr.Satan?”

Addie got her memory from Dad, apparently.

“Mm-hmm. He doesn’t have time for a girlfriend, and he asked me, and I said yes.”

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