Page 97 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

“Yeah,” he says. “I moved out here soon after we arrived. Wanted my own space.”

“Understandable.”

He turns on the shower and tests the water with his hand. Then down go his shorts and boxer briefs as he steps beneath the spray. The man is a work of art, and I would be more than happy to wash his back or any other part of his anatomy for him. Or to just give him a hug. But he specified he wanted to talk, so I keep my hands to myself. He rubs a bar of soap briskly over his skin. I don’t think I’ve ever watched someone bathe before. Not without me being naked and wet as well. He handles himself in such a matter-of-fact manner. There’s none of the care I take with his dick.

It’s a privilege to be given access to these private moments. To be permitted to be a part of his everyday life when he guards his privacy so carefully. One I don’t take for granted.

“Dougal lives in the other cottage,” he continues. “It’s not like I was all alone out here.”

“How did your mom take it?”

“She hated it. We fought about it constantly at first.” He washes his hair, then stands beneath the showerhead, letting the spray pound his back. “But she’s not the sort to try and force you to do something. That’s how I wound up living on only fish and chips for a week when I was a wee lad. Then my gran visited and insisted I eat some fruit and vegetables. Anyway, eventually Mom got used to me being out here, and her mind turned to other matters. Like where we could go on the next holiday and who was her latest famous friend.”

“Dougal might have been nearby, but you were all alone.”

“Back then, I wanted to be.” His blue eyes watch me thoughtfully. “But I’m not alone anymore. You’re here.”

My smile is weak. It’s been a long day. And then there’s the clock ticking down to tomorrow that I am trying so damn hard not to think about. “We should get some sleep. Who knows what time the royal cavalcade will appear? Have you decided what you’re going to say?”

“That’ll depend on why he’s here. I’d rather not get ahead of myself and start guessing.” He turns off the water, and the sudden silence fills the humid air. “Tell me, Lilah. What are you going to do when you find yourself still alive on Monday?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“Because you will be.” With the same brisk motions, he dries himself off with a plush white towel. “I’ve been meaning to ask, that wallpaper on your phone... It’s the Bibliothèque in Paris, isn’t it?”

I nod. “I change it every month or so to a different library I’d like to visit.”

“Another wish-list item.”

“You could say that,” I agree.

“Cold in France this time of year. You’ll need a good coat, gloves, and scarf. Some decent boots too.”

“Is that your way of suggesting we take a trip?”

“Is that your way of saying yes?” He wraps the towel around his hips and stares down at me.

It’s an effort to keep my arms by my sides. My hands get grabby around him. What can I say? He gets to me. But the man needs his sleep, what with his father turning up tomorrow morning.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, stepping closer.

“That we should get some sleep.”

“We should go to bed. You’re right about that.”

The bedroom has a large king-size bed made up in navy linens. And the wardrobe door is half-open, showing various items of clothing, tees, and jeans he left behind way back when. But there’s no sign of dust or the scent of stale air in here. Everything is pristine, as if he only left yesterday.

“Your mother keeps this room ready for you?” I ask.

Evidence of a younger version of Alistair is hidden here and there. A skateboard lying forgotten at the bottom of the wardrobe and a Foo Fighters poster on the back of the bedroom door.

“Yeah. Just in case.” He gazes at my face. “You look like you want to say something.”

“I don’t know the full story of what happened between you two. Therefore, I am keeping my mouth shut.”

“That’s a pity. You have such a lovely mouth. Why, I like your mouth almost as much as I admire your—”

I slap a hand over his lips to smother what he might have said. What he definitely said. With a laugh, I ask, “That’s not very princely language, is it?”

---