26. Chapter 26
Lennon
We’re all in the studio on the last day of recording—Noah, Jessica, and me.
Even the intern decided to stay to hear the end.
Lark and Silas are in their booths, and they share a little smile through the glass before he starts.
After a few lines, Lark looks out the window facing the rest of us.
Her blue eyes catch mine, and she winks just before she comes in with her dialogue.
I haven’t been in the studio since we started this whole thing.
First, it was because I didn’t want to have to hide my raging hard-on every time Lark’s voice dipped into the sultry, raspy tone I heard in her audition.
Now I know that’s part of the act. While it’s still sexy as hell, the tone she uses when we’re alone is much closer to her normal voice.
The little moans and gasps I’m able to pull out of her are unlike anything I’ve ever heard from her before, and I like that she doesn’t try to mimic that for this recording.
After a while, though, I stayed away to avoid messing her up, and also because by then, I had plenty of work to do on the chapters they had finished.
Since we were behind from the start and switched to a more time-intensive duet at the last minute, Noah wanted me to edit chapters as they were finished.
It worked well, and it also means the final product will be released within the next couple of weeks.
Seeing the way they work together, it’s easy to understand how they have such incredible chemistry.
This is what happens when you have two professionals in a room together.
They check in with glances and quick nods or shakes of their heads.
Once, Silas clearly doesn’t like the way he delivers a line and winces.
Lark doesn’t miss a beat. She pauses before her dialogue, waiting to see if he’s going to redo it, which he does.
Their easy rapport is something really special to watch.
When Silas finishes his last chapter, he lingers in silence with his hands over his headphones for a second.
Everyone in the studio is holding their breath before he takes them off, a smile slowly working its way upward as he continues to look down at the script in front of him.
He nods once, and we all burst into a round of applause.
Noah glances at Jessica, who gives him a thumbs-up. He presses a button on the board so Silas can talk to them. “Really nice, Si. How do you feel?”
Silas swallows a sip of water and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. “Good. It felt right in here.”
“Sounded great out here. Lark, are you ready, or do you want to take a break?” Noah asks.
Lark faces us, her face lit up and her eyes glittering. She’s alive, practically vibrating from head to toe like she used to when she was onstage. She’s so fucking beautiful. I can’t breathe.
“I’d like to keep going, if it’s okay with Silas? I don’t want to lose this energy.” She looks at him for confirmation, and he nods before taking another sip of water.
“Okay, let’s go,” Noah says, then clicks off his intercom so they can get started.
When any performance comes to a close, it’s an emotional experience, and this one is no different. Even though the book itself has a happy ending, as Lark weaves her way through the joy Gia feels at having Marcus with her forever, Jessica sniffles next to me.
“I wrote that,” she says quietly, a tear snaking its way down her cheek. “Those are my words.”
I sling an arm around her shoulders and give a quick squeeze. “It’s cool hearing it come to life, huh?”
“Mm-hmm,” she says, her eyes glued to Lark through the window. She falls silent again as if she’s absorbing every word.
“‘Do you promise, Marcus?’” Lark reads. “‘Will it really be forever this time?’”
“‘Forever and a day,’” Silas promises in character.
They lock eyes through the window as Lark delivers her last line: “‘I looked into his eyes and knew, without a doubt, that this man here—the man who kept all my sizzling secrets—was the only one for me.’”
She lets it hang there for a second—we all do—as if waiting for the curtain to close. Then, she rips the headphones off her ears and is out of the booth in a split second. Silas is close behind her, and they meet in the middle in a tight hug.
“That was so cool.” Her voice quivers as she grips him tight. “Thank you for taking a chance with a rookie.”
“You were a dream,” he says as they pull apart.
Lark giggles and wipes at her eyes before Jessica darts between them, using an arm around each of their necks to pull them into a group hug. Silas pats her on the back, and she lets go of him to hold Lark at arm’s length.
“I can’t tell you what this performance means to me,” Jessica says softly. “Thank you for taking care of my characters.”
“It has been my absolute honor.” Lark squeezes her elbows, then pulls her in for an embrace.
Noah leans over to talk to me as the two women continue chatting. “She’s a natural. Thanks for finding her.”
“She needed this,” I tell him. “Seeing her performing again, excited…” I trail off because I don’t have words for how wonderful it is.
The Lark in front of me is an entirely different woman than the one I fell in love with in high school, but in so many ways, watching her today has been exactly like watching her then.
Her talent and joy are a privilege to behold.
I might have invited her here in a desperate attempt to help her find it again, but that magic I saw in the booth today… that’s all her.
Noah claps me on the back as if he understands exactly what multitudes my silence holds. It’s a show of solidarity; he knows what emotions these things bring up, and he stands there while they run over me.
As soon as Jessica releases her, Lark turns to me and launches herself into my arms. Her feet aren’t even on the ground as I hold her tight, inhaling her citrus-and-sunshine shampoo and kissing her cheek.
I lower her to the ground slowly, angling her body so I can feel it dragging against mine. I cup her jaw and kiss her deeply. It’s what I’ve wanted to do after almost every performance of hers I’ve ever seen, and I finally can.
Noah chuckles somewhere in the distance. Jessica swoons. Silas hums as if he called it from the beginning. But I don’t care about any of it because I have my Songbird in my arms, and she just created something beautiful.
“I know you’ll be honest,” she says into my lips. “How was it?”
“Perfect.” I smirk. “I doubt I’ll have much to do on it. You’re going to put me out of business.”
She rolls her eyes and smacks my shoulders. “I’m serious!” she cries, then squeals as I catch her and spin her into my arms again.
“So am I,” I insist. “It was perfect. You’re perfect.” I lean in to whisper the last part into her ear. The gorgeous flush of her cheeks belies the skeptical look she flashes.
I grasp her hand and hold it between us as we face the rest of the group. She rests her head on my shoulder and her other hand on my biceps, and I’m on top of the world.
“Are we celebrating?” I ask the group before looking down at Lark on my arm. “I’ve been wanting to take her to a LACMA jazz night. Anyone want to join?”
All of them eye each other, exchanging a silent conversation. “That sounds fun…” Jessica trails off. Silas clears his throat.
“We, uh, wouldn’t want to crash your date. Again.” Noah pulls at his beard, but I can still see it twitching with amusement.
Lark pinches my arm, and I look down. Her blue eyes are dancing. “I brought sparkling wine.”
Jessica claps her hands giddily. “You did? Oh, that’s brilliant!”
Releasing me, Lark walks over to where her purse rests on a chair in the corner. She reaches into it and produces a bottle. “Would you like to do the honors?” she asks Jessica.
“You just…carry a bottle of sparkling wine in your purse?” I ask.
“No,” she says as if I’m an idiot. “I brought it because I knew we’d finish today.”
“That purse is giant,” Jessica says, taking the bottle from Lark’s outstretched hand.
“Mom life.” Lark shrugs. “Once I started carrying a huge diaper bag, I realized how awesome it was to have that much space for everything and never looked back.”
“And pockets!” Jessica exclaims, peeking inside.
“The pockets are the best feature,” she agrees solemnly.
Noah shuffles around in a drawer and produces some cups while Jessica twists the wire off the cap. When she pops the cork, it goes flying. Silas and I duck while Lark’s bright, beautiful laughter rings through the space.
Once everyone has some, we tap our cups together, offering congratulations and praise. Eventually, the intern leaves—probably for something more fun—and we move to the small table out back to finish the bottle.
Lark’s phone chimes from her purse as we’re headed outside. I hang back with her as she checks her messages. She reads for a second, then frowns deeply.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She sighs as she types. “Yeah. Devin has a stomachache. I think Richard is probably stressing her out. It happens every summer.” She finishes her message, then pockets her phone before we head outside.
I’ve worked on a lot of audiobooks over the years.
It’s always special finishing one, but this feels unique somehow.
I don’t know if it’s because Lark is here, at the center of it all, or because of the clear camaraderie the four of them have developed over the weeks, but sharing a bottle of sparkling wine outside of the recording studio in the late-summer Los Angeles sunshine feels good.
Like I was meant to be here. Like Lark was meant to be with me.
As the sun is beginning its descent, I suggest quietly to Lark that if we’re going to make it to LACMA, we should head out. There are more hugs, more pats on the back, and then we’re in the Jeep, the wind whipping through our hair and our fingers interlaced over the center console.
A few hours later, we’re sitting on a blanket in the shade, listening to the erratic, energetic sounds of jazz music.
As the sun sets, rows upon rows of white wrought-iron streetlights illuminate the grounds behind the stage.
The effect of it is almost like an M. C.
Escher drawing, the lights in rows creating an optical illusion behind the band.
Lark and I drink wine and eat the spread I’ve brought with us between stolen kisses and gentle touches. When she stands and starts swaying to the music, I just watch her. I’m completely in awe of her, always.
I’m in love with Lark. I know I am. Sure, it hasn’t been very long that she’s been here or that we’ve been together.
But then again, this has been decades in the making.
And watching her move her glorious hips to the beat of the music, soaking up that smile she’s always had just for me, seeing her eyes sparkle in the lights behind the stage, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.
A small part of my mind snags on the fact that we haven’t quite decided what to do or how to fit our lives together, but I haven’t had nearly enough time to simply enjoy this version of her—the one who dances freely, who sings in the bathroom in the morning, who whispers secrets to me under the cover of night.
The one who is here, next to me, lowering herself so she can sit on a blanket in a pool of her floral skirt, leaning over to rest her head on my shoulder.
Sighing up at me, big blue eyes happy and at home.
“I love you, Lennon,” she says.
And I should say it back. I want to. But I don’t know yet what it would mean to fundamentally change our relationship in this way. If we’re even ready for it. It’s easy for her to love me out loud. She always has. But me? That’s never been in my vocabulary.
Knowing it’s not worthy of what she is to me, but meaning it with every fiber of my being, I say what I’ve always said, even though it’s never been enough.
“You’re my favorite person in the world, Songbird.”