The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,75
not having anything else in my life. But between the rush of the campaign and the rush of Larkin St. Vincent, I found I needed nothing else in my life.
An email came through on my screen then.
Hey, food after we get off?
—Lark
I smiled. We were always pretty careful about what we said in email or messages through the campaign system. Probably, technically, I shouldn’t be dating her. If someone went looking, our messages likely weren’t as innocuous as I hoped they were. But the risk felt worth it.
Definitely. Buns in 20?
—Sam
She responded almost immediately.
You’re on.
—L
I finished up the memo that I’d been working on for Gibbs. We had to file some campaign finance paperwork this week before we got any closer to the primary. Needed everything to be up to snuff. I sent off what I had to Gibbs, grabbed my phone, and headed for the door.
Lark wasn’t there yet. Just Aspen walked by me.
“Have a good night, Sam,” she said with a shit-eating grin on her face.
“Night, Aspen.”
I wondered if she knew about us. She was closest to Lark. She’d know if anyone did. I’d have to ask her.
As I waited for Lark to show up, I pulled out my phone to check my social media. I nearly choked when I saw the name on my screen—Claire.
I hadn’t heard from her in weeks. She’d messaged me a bunch when she first left for Europe, and then it had all tapered off into silence. It was still three weeks before she was supposed to come home. We had to figure out the living situation. But I’d been putting off getting in contact with her. I didn’t want to know what Europe was like, if she was having a good time, and what things would be like when she got back. In fact, I didn’t want to talk to her. I just wanted to move out and get my own place and let her figure out what to do with the place in Brooklyn.
With a swipe of my finger, I sent the series of unread messages into the trash. I’d deal with that later.
“Hey, sorry about that. I got caught by Shawn,” Lark said, appearing in the hallway. She smiled up at me. “Ready to go?”
“Definitely.” I slid the phone back into my pocket and held the door open for her.
“God, Buns has the best burger in the city,” Lark said as we got out of the cab and headed up to her apartment.
“You say that every time you go there. And then try to dispute it every time that we debate on going somewhere else.”
“True,” she conceded. “But it’s just so greasy and delicious.”
“It is. And their shakes are amazing.”
She narrowed her eyes at me as we headed into the building. “I still feel personally victimized that you got a strawberry milkshake.”
“It’s my favorite!”
“I’m allergic!”
I laughed, dragging her into the elevator. “Are you not going to kiss me then?”
“Maybe not.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She poked me in the stomach and then pressed her lips to mine. “You’re insufferable.”
“I know.”
She tried to pull away, but I just held her closer. Her laugh was infectious as she squirmed against me.
“You’re lucky that I like you.”
I kissed her again. “I am.”
Her smile went all melty at the edges. “Let’s get you inside before you’re too sweet, and I start taking off your clothes in the elevator.”
“I’m not opposed.”
She shook her head at me and then dragged me out of the elevator. She was working the key into the door when my phone started buzzing. I took it out of my pocket, wondering who was calling me at this hour. I blinked in surprise. It was Claire. Again. After the text messages.
She was probably in Paris or something right now. So she had a five- or six-hour time difference. Maybe she didn’t realize what time it was here.
Wait, or were my time zones backward? If it was midnight here, it’d be like six in the morning there. Why was she up so early?
“Everything all right?” Lark asked.
I hadn’t noticed she was holding the door open.
I silenced the phone and let it go to voicemail. I didn’t want to know why she was calling me. She’d be back in a matter of weeks. I could deal with her then.
But another text came through right then from Claire.
Why aren’t you answering your phone? We need to talk.
I deeply disagreed. We did not need to talk. She’d said everything she needed to say before she left.