The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,45

you did it because you wanted to try to be someone else. But you’re not here. You’re still Larkin St. Vincent while working the campaign job.”

“You can’t escape who you are,” she told me. “But you shouldn’t ignore who you want to become either.”

“Insightful.”

She smiled hesitantly up at me. “After what happened with us…and the person I was at the end of our relationship, I decided I didn’t want to be that person anymore.” She laughed softly. “I gave her a name actually—Bad Lark.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Bad Lark? Really?”

She nodded. “She’s the person I was before I gave up the Upper East Side persona. When I decided that I couldn’t be the person I was if I wanted to be the person I was meant to become.”

“Well, I guess I’m glad to meet Good Lark. Is that what you call yourself?”

She shook her head and nudged me. “No. Don’t be silly. Bad Lark is who I was before. Now, I’m just Lark. So, while I might like to be in the Hamptons, relaxing with a drink in hand—who wouldn’t, right?—I want to elect Leslie more.”

I held the door open for Lark as we entered Buns and put in our order. I thought about all she’d said and how it aligned with what I’d seen of her the last couple of weeks that we’d been working together. I’d spent so long blaming her for what she’d done in the past that I hadn’t seen until just then how much she’d changed. Purposely changed to get beyond the person she’d been at the time. The person I’d thought she’d been with me all along. But now, she wasn’t pretending. There was nothing nefarious about our interactions. She was just…Lark.

I grabbed my burger and sank into our booth in the back corner. She grabbed the seat across from me and dug into her fries.

“God, these are so good,” she groaned. “Greasy and delicious.”

“The best.”

“You know, I’m surprised that you wanted to get lunch,” she said, peering up into my eyes. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

“Oh. I mean, I wasn’t avoiding you.” Lie. “I’ve just been busy.”

“I’m the queen of busy, but things have been weird. I thought we were friends, then we weren’t and now, we are?” she asked tentatively, hopefully.

“Yes,” I said automatically. “We’re friends.”

“And you’re going to stop avoiding me? Because it’s kind of awkward at the office.”

“I am,” I agreed.

I had to tell her. Jesus, I needed to tell her.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “And you’re coming to Court’s charity thing, right?”

“Yes. He told me to get a tuxedo, and so I’m renting one.”

“Wait,” she asked with wide eyes, “you’re renting a tuxedo.”

I shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do?”

She shook her head. “I’ll figure it out. You’ll probably have to go get measured this afternoon if we’re going to get it in time.”

“Are you making me Upper East Side?” I asked with an arched eyebrow.

“You’re going to one of our events. I wouldn’t do this if it was a work thing. But you’ll want to blend in.”

“Is it really that different for guys?”

Her eyes widened again. “If you have to ask that question, then you’ll definitely need my help.”

I laughed and conceded. “Fine. Tell me where to go, and I’ll get measured for a tux.”

“Great. English can thank me later. Oh, also, are you coming in the limo?”

“Court mentioned something about a limo. I didn’t ask questions.”

She rolled her eyes. “Guys. Okay, look, just meet at my place, and you can get the pick-up with me.” She froze as the words left her mouth. “I mean…unless you want to go to Court’s place. Or if you’re…bringing someone.”

She didn’t say Claire’s name. But we both knew that was what she meant.

It was my opening. It was the moment that I should say something.

But what could I even say? Claire and I broke up, and I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to be a rebound? Was that presumptuous? What if she didn’t even want that to happen?

Fuck. I’d thought this would be difficult…but not impossible.

Especially with her gorgeous green eyes staring up at me with questions dancing in her irises. If I told her now, it would make the whole event awkward. We were just finally on solid ground in our friendship. Just finally putting the past behind us at work. Able to have a nice, normal lunch together like colleagues.

And if I told her, I’d ruin this all in some way. If wanting