Page 32 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

“Doesn’t it frustrate you?”

“Beyond belief,” he says. “What are we talking about, Lilah?”

“We’re so programmed to worry about what other people think all the time. But the fact is, no one’s sitting at home mulling over some stupid shit I said last week. Or last year. Or a decade ago. There’s no need to spend my life second-guessing everything I say or do.”

He cocks his head and just listens.

“We waste so much time that way. Worrying. I wouldn’t have rushed to ask my ex to move in with me if I hadn’t been trying to meet some idiotic... Shit. It’s happening again. What’s the word I’m after?”

“Plan? Schedule? Ideal?”

“Any of those will do,” I say. “Don’t underestimate how embarrassing it was to admit that about my ex either. It’s stupid the way society still pushes people to conform in subtle ways. My life won’t be bereft if I don’t partner up and have children. It’ll just be different, and that’s okay. How ridiculous is it that I still feel the need to tell myself that in this day and age.”

He nods. “Fuck the patriarchy.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Are you happy, Lilah?”

“What?” I frown in confusion. “Right now?”

“No. I mean in general, with your life.”

“Some of the time. Happy is hard,” I say. “What about you?”

“I would say I’m content.”

We sit in silence for a moment. Then I ask, “You’re still cranky at me, aren’t you?”

He looks away and sighs. “No.”

“Really? That’s great. Though it might have been wiser of me to keep my mouth shut and not say anything about looking you up online. I’ll have to think about that when I’m sober. When does honesty kick you in the pants, and is it really worth it?”

“Oh, no!” cries Lady Helena, illustrating my earlier point about her being pure chaos. A moment ago, she was on the other side of the living room dancing to disco music from the seventies. “What happened? You looked him up?”

Alistair rises and walks away.

Lady Helena winces. “The press is a particularly delicate topic. You have to understand, Lilah. He’s had no control over the narrative they spin about him since he was twelve. They’ve invaded his life at every possible opportunity and made money off their lies. It’s not something you can appreciate until you’ve actually experienced it. Not that I would wish it on anyone. I invited them in a long time ago and have to live with that decision. But my son never had a choice.”

I nod.

“He was such a happy child before all of that. Everywhere we went, he made friends. You couldn’t stop to buy gas without him getting into a conversation with someone. People fascinated him. He always wanted to know the story of everyone’s life. Then he became so sad and withdrawn.” She sighs and pats my shoulder. “There, there, dear.”

“Now, then, Your Ladyship,” says Dougal. “Alistair is quite capable of handling his own affairs. Why don’t we talk about something else?”

“What a good idea. Drink this.” Alistair returns and pushes a glass of water at me while removing the remains of the absinthe cocktail. “That’s enough of that.”

I down the water.

With an expression of relief, he announces, “It’s time for us to go.”

The drive back home is a quiet one. Though the rush of the cold night air helps to clear my head. I don’t know if we’re going to continue being friends, but we’re definitely not in love with each other. The truth of the matter is Alistair Lennox is a field full of land mines that I lack the skills to navigate. Time for more toxic positivity. Good Witch Willow couldn’t have been more wrong about us. Therefore, after deducting the half a point I had awarded the prediction, the chance of me dying next week is down to 55 percent.

Not bad.

He pulls up at the curb outside my apartment, and I climb out of the convertible and close the door. It is a truly beautiful car. The sounds of the city fade away, and there is only this horrible silence between us. It’s like the whole world is holding its breath. Or maybe that’s just me.

“Alistair—”

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