Page 65 of Look on the Bright Side

“I thought you wanted to reassure her that you’d end up with a lovely partner, and weren’t a bitter, dried-up husk, alone except for his work.”

“That is the point, but she doesn’t have to like you.”

“Does she actually worry about you finding someone?”

He sighed. “She said it would be a shame if I didn’t have children. That I should find a woman who…”

“Go on.” This would be good.

“Who appreciates my gifts and would be a traditional wife.”

“Oh! A traditional wife? In other words, worship you and do all the work of marriage, home and child raising herself while asking nothing from you.”

“She’d have financial security, beautiful surroundings and every comfort, so yes.”

“Sounds like a housekeeper-slash-nanny. Is that what you want?”

He sighed. “I suppose, yes.”

“Have you ever been in love, Lorenzo?”

“I’m in the middle of reviewing notes for a very complicated surgery, Dr.Smith. Can we not…talk?”

“Sure. I just thought it’d be more convincing if I knew—”

“Lark, you’re just an…obstruction, okay? A human barrier preventing my family from trying to set me up, or wring their hands over my lack of attachment. My parents still feel guilty over sending me away to school. If they think I have someone, they feel better. My grandmother knows I’m not close to many people and worries that I’ll be bereft without her. Even if we’re not really together, even when we break up, you give them a reason to…”

“Hope?”

He cut her a look. “To back off.”

Had he smiled, it would’ve been…but he didn’t, so…“At least you’re honest,” she said. “Okay, the interrogation is over. Which is my room again?”

“Third door on the right. Six thirty. Don’t be late.” He turned his back to go into his office.

“I’m never late,” she said.

“You were eleven minutes late for the family picnic.”

“That was intentional. It’s called fashionably late.”

“It’s called eleven minutes late,” he said, then closed the door.

She couldn’t help a smile as she went down the hall. The guest room was similarly well appointed and sterile. White bed, white decorative pillows, sumptuous gray throw blanket, beautiful maple dresser. She unpacked, hanging her pink dress carefully, then peeked in the guest bathroom. Okay, she’d definitely be taking a bath in that giant tub. But first, a nap.

The conversation with Lorenzo had left her soul feeling a little unsettled. She hadn’t anticipated liking his family quite so much…or having Noni be such a tough nut to crack. When Lorenzo had first asked her to do this, she’d pictured a sweet little old lady who’d light up at the sight of Lark, be so relieved her darling boy had found someone at last. Lark hadn’t expected someone who hissed and glared.

She took out the picture of her and Justin she always brought with her if she was sleeping somewhere else—their engagement photo. His parents had paid for a photographer, and they’d gone to the Common. In the photo, Justin had picked her up, and their foreheads were resting against each other, both of them radiating joy.

We loved with a love that was more than love.

They really had. It was good to remember that.

It just seemed so long ago.

•••

At 6:58 p.m., she and Lorenzo got out of a hired town car and walked into the Copley Plaza. Lark wore the dress and shoes he’d chosen, as well as a pair of diamond stud earrings Addie had given her as a maid of honor present. The adorable purse contained her phone, wallet and tissues, since she knew she’d get teary at the toasts. She’d texturized her hair, then spent half an hour securing it into an updo with no fewer than twenty-two bobby pins and half a can of spray so it would stay put. Mascara, blush, neutral lip gloss.

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