Page 68 of Look on the Bright Side

“Of course you were, sweetie. But if you weren’t, that would be fine, too.”

“Let me change the subject,” Izzy said. “Lark, what do you like doing in your spare time?”

“Well, I’m a resident, so a lot of my time is spent researching things that come up at work,” she said. “But I paint a little, since my mom’s an artist. I ride my bike a lot, because we have the Cape Cod Rail Trail. Connery likes to come, too.” She took her phone out and pulled up a picture of Connery sitting in her bike basket. “I should put him in modeling school. He’s a natural.”

“Like Toto in The Wizard of Oz,” Anita said, smiling. “And, Lark, you’re so pretty, you could be on the cover of a magazine. Seriously, you’re tall enough to model.”

“And yet she chose to use her brain instead of becoming a human coat hanger,” Lorenzo said. “Shocking.”

An awkward silence fell over the table. Dante stared at his brother, unsmiling.

Lark gave Lorenzo a hard look. “I’m pretty sure it was a compliment, Pooh Bear,” Lark said, knowing the endearment would grate on him. “And thank you, Anita. My twin sister did some modeling, actually. It’s not as simple as it seems. You need to know the market you’re selling to, and understand photography and light. It can be really physical, too.”

“Excuse me,” Dante said, getting up from the table.

“Can we circle back to Pooh Bear?” Izzy asked.

“No,” Lorenzo said.

Conversation wandered back to Sofia and Henry, but yes, Lark was sure now. Something big had gone down between the brothers. It wasn’t just sibling rivalry.

“All finished here?” a waiter asked. “Oh, hey, Lark!”

“Hey!” It was…gosh, what was his name? “Lionel! How are you?”

“Great! I’d hug you, but…” He smiled and shrugged. She and Lionel had been at BU together, lived on the same hall freshman year and stayed friends throughout school.

In other words, he’d known Justin.

“What’s new with you?” she quickly asked.

“Oh, not much. I was a paralegal for a while—corporate tax law, so boring—then thought I’d become a chef. Got a job with this caterer to learn the ropes.”

“Excellent!” She smiled hard, but she knew it was coming.

“Listen, I want to say how—”

“Oh, shoot! My phone!” Lark said, whipping it out of her purse. “It was so good to see you, Lionel. Message me sometime, okay? I’m on the Cape, but we should reconnect. Sorry! Bye!”

She put her phone against her ear as if she had heard it ring and zipped out of the room, the silk dress swishing against her legs, the air cool on her back. Her heart was thudding.

Things like this happened all the time. All the time. Just…not for a while.

There had been the friends who’d been there every step of the way for her and Justin—Jordyn and Mike, Justin’s freshman year roommate. Luz, her study partner in calculus at BU. Family, of course. There had been the people who’d come to the funeral. The people who had sent donations to Dana-Farber in his name, or had sent touching cards or had called or emailed or texted. And then there were the people who had known but hadn’t done squat.

Lionel was in that last group. She didn’t want his condolences seven years too late. He could’ve sent a fucking card. A Facebook message. Something.

Being here, in this hotel, the nicest in Boston, was abruptly too much. After all, this was where she and Justin had first been together, the love story that had begun as children finally consummated when they were college students. She’d been determined not to make their places a shrine of sorrow, had been to this hotel at least five times since Justin’s death, but…but…

He was getting to be so long ago. So long ago.

Tears burned in her eyes. What she wouldn’t give right now for a glimpse of him, leaning in the corner, smiling at her, that thick dark hair, his navy blue eyes. But the memories of him in real life were being replaced by the movies of him, photos. His smell, his voice, the feeling of his hands, his laugh had been fading for years now, a sad, fragile mist succumbing to the harsh rays of every day that had passed since his death.

A wedding was taking place in another ballroom—the beautiful marbled lobby was packed with people in tuxedos and sparkling dresses, clearly waiting for the happy couple. Yep. There was the bride, beautiful dress, gorgeous hair. Lark pasted on a smile and slipped around people and smiled some more. The hotel lobby was huge, and once she cleared that crowd, she headed down the hall and found a little quiet area near the Dartmouth Street entrance.

An empty chair, some cool air and maybe she could fend off the storm of memories battering her. Turkey club sandwiches and root beer in bed. High tea with Heather. Her twenty-first birthday, when Justin had brought her here for her first legal drink. Brunch on graduation weekend, the Smiths and the Deans, talking about the future, that happy future filled with jobs and medical school, a wedding, children, a home filled with love.

Let’s get married right now.

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