Page 37 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

“Are you aware that you’re a worrier?” I ask. “It was fine. I had fun. And it’s still safer than bungee jumping or skydiving.”

He sighs. “What’s next on the list?”

“I don’t know. My decision to be more daring is shaking things up.”

A moment of silence passes. Guess neither of us knows what to say.

“I’m sorry if you feel that I was being unreasonable just now,” he says.

“Is that your idea of an apology?”

He grips the back of his neck and frowns his heart out. “It was never my intention for your feelings to get hurt, but I—”

“No. Stop. That’s not it either. You’re seriously bad at this, aren’t you?”

This time he simply says, “I’m sorry.”

“You can stay and watch TV if you want. This is the episode where Caroline just got turned into a vampire. It’s one of my favorites. She throws Damon down a hallway, and boy, does he deserve it.”

For a minute, he just stands there. Then slowly, warily, he walks around to the other side of the bed. A wild animal would be less cagey. Such a shame I wasn’t a Girl Scout, because I have earned my badge for dealing with grumpy bears. Alistair toes off his shoes and removes his coat. Then he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and folds them back. That he feels safe enough to let his guard down and relax is like Christmas to me. Though his exposed forearms shouldn’t affect me so much. He’s only getting comfortable. But everything low in my belly draws tight. The scattering of dark hair and lines of his muscles. How efficient he is with those big, strong hands.

He catches me staring and happily jumps to the wrong conclusion. “I had meetings today.”

“It’s a nice suit.”

“I can only stay for one episode.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t like you being alone,” he says, as if I demanded he justify his actions.

“Me being alone seems to bother you more than it does me. Have you noticed that?”

Nothing from him.

“I was alone a lot when I was younger. Guess I got used to it. My brother always had sports practice or something after school. Until I was old enough to work in the café, I was home on my own most afternoons and evenings.” As much as I want to ask how much of his life he’s spent alone, I keep my mouth shut.

He sits down, extends his legs, and shoves a cushion behind his head. It’s just me and him and a TV. And that is fine and dandy—friends hang out, it’s what they do. Though I don’t want to get my hopes up too high for us actually having a friendship. He might change his mind again.

“I take it you’re here because the press are hassling you?” he asks. “That’s why you’re in a hotel?”

“I have it on good authority that there are some hiding in the bushes at home.”

He nods.

“Who’s thetheyyou referred to?” I ask, treading on dangerous ground. Damn my curiosity. “You saidtheyneeded to know if I was doing the interview.”

For the longest time, he says nothing. So long I think he’s not going to answer. But then he does. “The people around him can be pedantic. They’re used to controlling things.”

“The people around the king?”

“Yes,” he says, his jaw cracking on a yawn. “Sorry. Long day. They called me at two in the fucking morning in a furor about the pictures.”

“Seems excessive. There are photos of you online all the time. Both of us were keeping our hands to ourselves and wearing pants in all the shots.”

He just grunts. Guess he’s not ready to see the humor in the situation. “Their reaction to things can depend on what else is going on at the time. It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

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