Page 14 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

“Do you think I’m flirting with you?”

“I don’t know,” he says with a smirk. “Are you flirting with me?”

“Ali. Sweetie.” I smile. “Let me assure you, I am not sizing you up for a rebound.”

“Your loss.” He shrugs. “It’s sort of my specialty.”

“How so?”

“I, ah...”

I wait. And then I wait some more. “You can’t just throw that out there and not give me details,” I finally say. “Come on.”

“I don’t know if I should talk about it.”

“Don’t be a tease.”

He grimaces and groans. Like he didn’t kick off the topic. “I have a tendency to be the one before the one. The penultimate partner, shall we say.”

“What proof can you offer?”

“Google it if you like. Fuck knows there’s been enough written about me.”

I think it over. “No. I don’t think so. I’d like to hear it from you.”

He gazes at me out of the corner of his eye for a minute. Like those internal scales of his are busy with the judging once again. Then he checks over his shoulder to make sure no one is listening. And finally, he says, “Eleven of my, shall we say,longer-term partnerswent on to get married straight after me.”

My eyes are as wide as can be. “Eleven?”

“Yes.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I am not.”

“Wow. I feel like such a failure. I’ve only had four boyfriends ever, and one of those didn’t even last three months. You know, I’m not even sure I have eleven friends.” I stare at him in awe. Or something like that. Given the situation, I would rather not like the man, but he’s not making it easy. There’s the whole hotness thing, of course. But then he goes and compounds the issue by being so easy to talk to. Some of the time. Most of the time. It’s like we have our own little comfortable bubble of space at the end of the bar. “What kind of time period are we talking about here? How long were you with these people?”

He blows out a breath. “I don’t know. Say half a year and more. Three years at most.”

“Huh. Interesting. Would you call yourself a serial monogamist?”

“I don’t need to—you just did.”

“Do you consider yourself a good boyfriend?”

His chin jerks up. Arrogance has most definitely entered the conversation. “I am an excellent boyfriend or partner. The latter feels like a more adult term for the situation, if you don’t mind.”

“Have you been told that you’re an excellent partner, or are you just jumping to that conclusion because...”

“Because what?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I was hoping you’d finish the sentence.”

“I am not finishing that sentence.”

“Okay.” I lick my lips and his eyes track the movement. Which is interesting. “How many people have you dated in total?”

“I’m not answering that either.” He laughs softly. “But I will note that I think I’m older than you.”

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