Page 48 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

“Anything in the sitting room?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not a space I use.”

“What about the media room next door?”

“Got the screen set up in the main room, so...”

I stare at him in wonder. “You’ve been living here for half a decade, don’t use the bulk of the house, and haven’t bothered to finish unpacking. Does that basically sum up the situation?”

“Yeah. Basically. I’ve been busy.”

There have been many times in my life when I wished men came with a manual. But none so much as now. I run a finger along a shelf, and it comes away dust free. Meaning I can move straight into unpacking the boxes and getting the books in order. “I’ll have that drink when you’re ready.”

“You’re going to set up my library?”

“I am.”

“That’s a big job.”

“Oh. I meant to tell you, your mother visited me last night,” I say, piling books from the first box onto the floor.

All amusement falls from his face. “Helena visited you? At your apartment?”

“Yeah. It was fine. Don’t panic.” I pull out my hair tie and redo my ponytail. Wearing the helmet has left it feeling lopsided. “But she and my friend Rebecca were snooping and found my wish list, along with other clues, such as information on green burials.”

“You’re not going to die,” he growls. “I wish you’d stop worrying about that.”

“At any rate, questions were asked, and I wound up telling them about Good Witch Willow and the predictions. But don’t worry. I made sure not to mention the one about us being soulmates within your mother’s hearing.”

His frown amps up to eleven. “All right.”

“Her Ladyship decided I needed spiritual cleansing.”

“Of course she did. You didn’t actually let her do it, though, did you?”

“Your belief in me being sensible is beautiful but unwarranted,” I report. “She filled up a Super Soaker with essential oils, and I stood in the shower wearing my bikini, and...yeah. She fired it at me.”

His mouth hangs open in wonder.

“Say something, Ali.”

“You let my mother fire a water pistol full of scented oil at you?”

“Yes.”

He just blinks.

“She threw Himalayan crystal salt at me too. Big handfuls of the stuff. A huge chunk of quartz was also involved. I forget what that was for. But she didn’t throw that at me. It just sat on the shower floor, where I kept accidentally kicking it. There was some chanting involved too. A mantra or something.”

“Right.” This is about when he starts to massage either side of the bridge of his nose. Like he’s in actual physical pain. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I am just telling you because I thought you would want to know.”

“Lilah, be careful with my mother,” he says, his voice slow and deliberate. Like he’s choosing his words with care. “She doesn’t always make good choices.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just be careful,” he repeats. “Please.”

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