The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

Chapter 12

12

Alistair is not impressed. “What are you doing here?”

Two men carrying brown paper bags push past him. They both look me over with interest. Not in a checking-me-out way. More of a curious friends thing.

“Lilah,” says Alistair. “These are my business partners, Gael and Shane. They won’t be staying.”

“Hello, Lilah. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.” Gael is a charmer. It’s obvious in the very warm smile on his handsome face. Business is obviously good, because he’s dressed head to toe in designer wear. It’s in the name on his sneakers and the cut of his jeans and button-down shirt. “To think I brought you my grandmother’s tamales, you ungrateful ass.”

“I do like your grandmother’s cooking,” concedes Alistair. “What did you bring?” he asks Shane.

“Beer,” says Shane simply.

“I like that too. But you’re still not staying. Neither of you.”

“There’s been a proposed update we want your opinion on. It won’t take long.”

“Bullshit.”

Shane has dimples and curly blond hair and uses a mobility aid. He’s also dressed casually in jeans and a Henley. “Hey, Lilah.”

“Hello,” I say. Not nervous at all. Much.

“Come sit with me.” Shane ushers me through to the couch, collecting the gaming system as he goes. “Do you play?”

“I used to love Minecraft . Then my much younger cousin kept filling my house with chickens.”

“Children can be brutal.” He rests his cane against the chair and gets the game started. “The aim of The Collective is to establish a postapocalyptic community. You scavenge for supplies to house, feed, clothe, and provide medical aid for your people. While fighting off bad guys, of course.”

“I’ve heard of this. It’s really popular.”

“We’ve worked on a couple of games. But this one in particular has done well for us.”

“Yeah. I read an interesting article about how the themes of found family and social justice are incorporated into the narrative.”

“Alistair handles the bulk of that side of things,” says Gael, unpacking containers of food onto the dining table.

“You do?” I ask, looking at Alistair, who’s sitting on the end of the couch with a bottle of beer in hand.

“Where’s Nari?” he asks, ignoring me. “Why didn’t your wife stop you idiots from inviting yourselves over?”

Shane has serious golden retriever energy. He seems to be constantly smiling. “She’s out with her sisters. I wasn’t invited.”

Alistair softly laughs. “Sounds about right.”

“But it did give me the opportunity to come meet your new friend. Nari dated his sorry ass for a while,” Shane explains to me. “Then she realized I was superior in every way and dumped him. Sad for him. Great for me.”

“True story.” Gael wanders through, carrying plates and silverware from the kitchen. “Alistair has a reputation as an accidental matchmaker.”

“I heard something about this too,” I say.

“He finds amazing people, fails at having a relationship, and his friends benefit. So, what with me being single, when he started talking about you, I thought we should meet.” Gael gives me a wink.

“Makes sense.”

“Don’t flirt with her,” grumbles Alistair. “Lilah’s had enough of fuck boys. She’s off the market.”

“You wound me,” says Gael, clutching at his chest. “Fuck boy...as if. I’m a fuck man, thank you very much.”

“Ali,” I say chidingly, “I don’t recall saying I was done with dating.”

He blinks. “My mistake. Do as you please.”

“He lets you call him Ali?” Shane’s gaze is wide with surprise. “And he actually answers?”

“ Let is the wrong word,” says Alistair.

“I called you Al for all of basic training. Couldn’t make it stick.”

“It concerns me that this still torments you all these years later,” says Alistair. “Have you considered therapy?”

Shane picks up his cell. “I’m telling my wife you’re being mean to me.”

“Your wife adores me. She won’t believe a word you say.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?” asks Shane. “Interesting.”

Alistair grunts.

“We don’t get to meet Alistair’s special friends until after he’s been dating them for a while,” says Shane. “Usually about a month. It’s one of his rules.”

“Lilah and I are just friends,” says Alistair. “We’re not dating.”

“But he’s been talking about you so much we couldn’t wait.”

I smile and nod. “This is all very fascinating. Tell me more about these rules.”

“He has so many of them,” says Shane. “Where to even begin?”

“Not another word,” Alistair warns.

Shane gives me a wink.

Gael clears his throat. “Back to what I was saying. I’ve given it some thought, and I believe it’s his rigid life view that tanks his relationships.”

“Nari said he was so serious all the time,” adds Shane. “But I made her laugh.”

“Yes,” says Alistair. “I can see her laughing at you. That makes sense.”

Shane smiles. “He messed up and I got a chance with the woman of my dreams. But Nari and I aren’t the only ones he’s brought together under the banner of true love.”

“Lilah already knows about the matchmaker bullshit,” says Alistair. He cracks his neck and scowls his heart out. Never has a man been treated so badly. Not even Sisyphus with his boulder had to tolerate this shit.

“Yeah, but just out of interest. How many weddings have you been to where you not only dated the bride but were directly responsible for introducing the couple?” asks Gael. “I know you have at least two or three godchildren because of just this sort of situation.”

“I have nothing further to add to the topic.” At which point Alistair rises and makes for the nearest exit.

Gael grins in victory.

As nice as it is seeing Alistair with his friends, there’s something on my mind. “What did he, um, tell you about me? Just out of curiosity.”

“That you almost hit his Aston Martin,” says Gael, filling a plate with food.

Shane nods in agreement. “We heard a lot about that.”

“And also about the witch, the predictions, and everything else. We might have been a little worried you were messing with him,” says Gael. “You can see how we would think that, right?”

I wince. “Yeah.”

“But you didn’t sell him out.” Shane shrugs. “You had the opportunity, and you didn’t take it.”

I have the distinct feeling they’ve discussed all of this in depth. Of course, I’m glad they care about their friend. But it can be awkward when you know you’ve been the topic of debate. Or maybe that’s just me and my delicate feelings.

“You forgot your drink.” Alistair returns with my glass of champagne.

I smile. “Thank you.”

“Here you go, Lilah,” says Gael, handing me a plate heaped high with food. Tamales, rice, guacamole, corn, and salsa too.

“Whoa.” My mouth is watering. “It smells amazing.”

Alistair’s brows draw together. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” asks Gael.

“You know what I mean.”

“What are you talking about?” Gael is the picture of innocence. “I’m just trying to make our guest feel welcome.”

“My guest.”

“Right. Your guest. That’s what I said.”

If Alistair had death rays for eyes, Gael would most definitely be singed. Which would be a pity. He’s both a handsome and charming man who knows how to put a plate of food together. Three things I appreciate.

“You’re sort of intense about this one, aren’t you?” asks Gael. “This friend, I mean.”

Nothing from Alistair.

“These assholes are always competing. Just ignore them like I do.” Shane takes the game control to free up my hands for food. He sinks back against the couch with an easygoing smile. “What do you think of the place, Lilah?”

“The house?” I ask. “I think it’s great.”

“Sure,” says Gael. “If you enjoy a sterile gray stone environment more suited to being a supervillain’s secret hideout than a home.”

I manage not to laugh. But only just.

“She already gave me shit about not having finished unpacking, then started sorting the library.” Alistair sits beside me and steals a tamale off my plate. So rude. Though, to be fair, there’s a lot of food.

“I did not give you shit,” I say with a disdainful sniff. “I just ever so slightly questioned some of your life choices.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“He let you touch his stuff?” Shane picks up his cell and shoots off another text. “Nari needs to know about this. What else happened, Lilah?”

Filling your mouth with food is an excellent stall tactic when you don’t know what to say. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.

Shane’s cell chimes and he smiles. “Nari’s reminding me of the interior decorator you dated. The one who tried to get you to fix this place.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my house,” says Alistair. “It doesn’t need fixing.”

“I’ve always admired you for your inflexibility.” Gael waves his fork in the air. “Have I ever mentioned that?”

“What was their name?” asks Shane. “The decorator?”

“Rowan,” says Alistair.

Gael takes a seat with his own plate. “I remember Rowan. They were great. What happened between you two?”

“None of your business,” says Alistair.

At the same time as Shane says, “Didn’t they go back to their ex?”

“Their ex probably listened when they gave good advice. They probably now share a happy home that is filled with love while being both warm and welcoming. Don’t you wonder what that would be like?” Gael turns to me. “How’s your wish list going, Lilah?”

I swallow my food and take a sip of champagne to wash it down. “He told you about that too, huh?”

Alistair’s gaze holds a hint of confusion or worry. No idea which. “Should I not have? Lilah?”

Gael and Shane watch us with interest.

“It’s fine,” I say. “It wasn’t a secret. You’re just usually so closemouthed about things. But I’m happy to see you have friends that you talk to, and I’m happy to say I’m making progress on the list.”

“I know someone who does tandem paragliding,” says Gael. “If you’re interested, I could introduce you.”

There’s no time for me to get a word out. Nor is there any need, apparently.

“No,” says Alistair, his tone absolute. “She doesn’t feel the need to test gravity.”

“Fair enough,” answers Gael. “How do you feel about burlesque dancing?”

I get as far as opening my mouth this time. “I—”

“There’s no way she’s getting on a stage in her underwear.” Alistair shakes his head. “And she doesn’t want to be the mermaid in the tank at your friend’s bar either. So don’t even ask.”

“Oh, c’mon. Who doesn’t love a clamshell bra? They look so supportive!”

I take a moment to ponder the idea. “You know, Ali, your mom mentioned last night how liberating baring one’s breasts in public can be.”

“She’s met your mom?” Shane’s eyes are as wide as can be. “He introduced you to Lady Helena?”

Meanwhile, Alistair’s mouth opens, but he says nothing. He just stares at me. Then he finally comes out with “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

Shane snorts.

“If you want company in the tank, Lilah, I am there,” says Gael, giving me two thumbs up. “Being a merman always looked like fun to me. The outfits are so sparkly.”

“You would really like to do that?” asks Alistair, ignoring both of his friends. “The dancing and the swimming?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“It’s your choice, of course. I shouldn’t have...”

“You shouldn’t have what?”

He gives me his most serious look and says, “I’m sure you’d be wonderful at either.”

“Thank you, Ali,” I say. “Though I think it’s more likely I’d fall off the stage or accidentally drown. Neither dancing nor staying underwater for prolonged periods are my strong suits. I’ll stick to the existing wish list for now.”

Those broad shoulders slump ever so slightly in obvious relief. Which is kind of hilarious.

“This is incredible.” Shane is texting once more. “It’s like he’s evolving and growing into a better boyfriend right before our eyes.”

“Except we’re not together,” I remind them. And myself.

“What else was on the list?” asks Gael, tapping a finger against his chin. “Oh. I know. How about the Pretty Woman moment? I know a costume designer who has great connections in the industry.”

“Back off, Gael,” says Alistair in a more subdued tone. “I’ll handle the Pretty Woman .”

The way my heart dies just a little at the words.

Gael does a dramatic sigh. “But—”

“I repeat, I have her very much in hand and do not need your help,” states Alistair.

“You have me very much in hand?” I ask with a curious sort of smile. “Is that so?”

“Lilah...” says Alistair, visibly flustered. Again. “You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

His jaw shifts. “Yes.”

“We all know what you mean,” confirms Gael.

Shane nods. “That’s true. We do. Even if you don’t.”

“I mean she’s my friend and I’m taking care of it. All of it.”

My hopes do not plummet. They were never that high to begin with. There’s nothing like hanging out with an actual Prince Charming to teach you to keep your feet on the ground and your head out of the clouds.

Meanwhile, there is a definite ever so slightly evil twinkle in Gael’s eyes, and his smile is huge. Like he’s absolutely having the time of his life. “Alistair tells us you’re a librarian,” says Gael. “Any other hobbies or interests besides books?”

“Like anyone actually needs a hobby besides books.” I load my fork up with food. “But movies, music...those sorts of things.”

“Great,” he says with much enthusiasm. About ten times more than is strictly speaking necessary. And the way this annoys Alistair is clear to one and all. Though he can’t actually be jealous. This is just more of their competitive friend thing. No need to blow it out of proportion. “What’s your favorite movie, Lilah?”

“It’s hard to narrow it down to just one.”

“Give it a go.”

“Um. I thought Hunt for the Wilderpeople was great.”

“I haven’t seen that one,” says Gael. “We should get together and watch it sometime.”

Alistair shuts his eyelids tight for a moment. Like he’s searching for peace and patience deep inside and failing. The only problem with these shenanigans is how my heart keeps acting like it’s poised on the cusp of something. Every action of his spurs a reaction in me. It all fuels my foolish hope that Alistair has feelings for me too. Ones that maybe go beyond the occasional bout of lust. All I can do is self-medicate with champagne and tamales. This too shall pass.

“You free at all this weekend?” Gael asks me.

“No. She’s busy. And I told you to stop flirting with her,” says Alistair, cranky as can be. The thrill that goes through me at the sound of his growling brogue. Some of the noises he makes ought to be illegal. Or at least confined to the bedroom.

I keep my legs shut tight and my smile serene. This is fine. Everything is fine.

Gael laughs. “I mean all of us. We’ll all get together and watch it. Why are you being so uptight?”

Alistair is not convinced.

And with good cause. Because the next words to me out of Gael’s mouth are: “So, Lilah, what would you say you’re looking for in a relationship? Just out of interest?”

I don’t mean to choke on the champagne. It just happens.

Alistair rubs my back. Guess he also gives his friend another foul glance, because Gael says, “What did I do now? Lilah, babe, you okay?”

“Do not call her babe ,” rumbles Alistair.

“Why? You got dibs on that endearment? Were you planning on calling her babe ?”

Alistair frowns at me before saying, “That’s none of your business.”

“Shane,” I say, a little louder than intended. All the back-and-forth was cute for a while, but now I am done. Hoping I mean something to him is starting to hurt. A diversion is needed. “Would you mind showing me the game now?”

Shane gives his two friends a chastising look. “Sure thing.”

“What are you doing?” asks Alistair.

His friends have just left. Things calmed down after Shane and I modeled appropriate adult behavior. Not being fought over by a pair of dueling idiots improved my night tenfold. We played the game for hours. Or rather, I played it while three men shouted advice at me and gestured wildly at the screen. Then they started discussing different technical aspects of the game. Notes were taken on new ideas for updates and extensions. It was interesting seeing them work together as a team.

But back to the here and now. My cell is in my hands. “Ordering a car.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

“It’s fine. Thanks.”

“Lilah,” he says, stepping closer, “look at me.”

“Hmm?”

His blue gaze takes me in, and he sighs. “You’re still upset about earlier. I’m sorry about Gael. He doesn’t mean any harm, but he gets carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” I repeat. “Gael apologized for the shenanigans when he kissed me good-night.”

His brows descend. “He kissed you?”

“On the cheek. Shane did too. Your friends are nice. I like them.”

The frown remains in place. “If it’s about me telling them about you, I—”

“I have chosen to take you talking to your friends about me as a compliment. Though it does sort of feed into the larger issue.”

And the frown still remains. “Which is?”

“This here,” I say, pointing at the deep line embedded between his dark brows. “This is the problem, Ali.”

“What do you mean?”

“You just... I am so confused.”

“About what?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Needing a moment to get my thoughts in order. Being brave isn’t necessarily my thing. But it’s not like I have time to waste these days. I push my shoulders back and thrust out my tits and say, “You know, for just a friend, you sure do get upset when someone flirts with me.”

It’s obvious the instant his walls go up. How the sharp lines of his face are suddenly set in stone. Not an iota of emotion can escape.

“You’re right—Gael was just playing,” I say. “But that doesn’t explain why you were reacting as strongly as you did.”

He scoffs and shakes his head and says nothing.

“And while we’re discussing it, the idea of me having sex with someone doesn’t exactly thrill you either, does it?”

“That’s me being concerned with your safety,” he says, the brogue thickening. “We talked about this. I made my position perfectly clear.”

“Changing the topic of conversation doesn’t make your position clear. Kind of the opposite.”

“You’re deliberately being obtuse,” he says, talking to some fixed point past my shoulder. “You and I are friends, Lilah. That’s all.”

“So, what, I’m imagining all of this?”

He jerks his chin, which is answer enough. Ouch.

“Okay.” Sometimes you’ve got to let go of things for your own sanity. Such as this conversation. “Thank you for the motorbike ride. I really enjoyed it. I’ll order a car and wait outside.”

He follows me with a frown. “I said I’d drive you.”

“I think it would be best if I found my own way home.”

“What? Why?” he asks in outrage.

“We sort of just covered the why. Let’s talk tomorrow and—”

“No.”

I just blink. “Excuse me?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I heard that. I was just wondering if you could expand on the response a little.”

“No to whatever you’re talking about. I’m driving you home after we talk this through. Now.” He stares down his nose at me and holy shit . It’s like he’s handing down the law. The man couldn’t be more of a pompous asshole if he were standing in a palace and wearing a crown.

“We’re pretty much done talking about it. But why is you driving me home such a big deal, Ali?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Okay. I, um, I’m tired,” I say. “Good night.”

When I reach for my jacket, however, he grabs hold of it too. And he doesn’t let go. We’re having wrestling competitions over clothing now. Which is a totally normal thing that friends do.

“Leaving during a disagreement is juvenile, Lilah.”

“Or, and hear me out here, it’s a chance for both of us to calm down and rethink things.”

“What we’re going to do,” he says, ignoring me completely, “is go back to the living room, sit down, and work this out like two calm, rational adults. Whatever it is you’re upset about.”

“That would be a no from me. And now would be a great time for you to stop telling me what to do.”

“Then why don’t you try listening?”

“Fuck you, Alistair.”

His brows descend and his gaze goes nuclear. But it’s the way he gets all up in my face that is truly special. “Don’t you dare call me by my full name.”

“I thought you preferred it. I thought me calling you Ali annoyed you. Keep the jacket. Maybe you can return it and get your money back.”

“What’s wrong with us being just friends?” he asks, emphasizing the F word by tossing the offending item of clothing into the corner. “Tell me.”

“Nothing. Not a single thing. If you behaved like just a friend.”

“You’re misreading things. I was only looking out for you. This isn’t to do with that bullshit prediction about us being soulmates, is it?”

“No,” I say, loud and clear. “This is me simply reacting to your behavior.”

“Nothing about you is simple.”

“Straight back at you, buddy.”

I grasp the door handle, but he’s there, pushing against the front door and holding it closed. While kneeing someone in the groin isn’t on the wish list, it would be a daring, new, and interesting experience. I am not ruling it out. Because, boy, is he asking for it right now.

“If this is what you learned at your dancing and deportment classes, something went very wrong somewhere along the way,” I say.

“With all due respect, you’re being fucking unreasonable. You know that, right?”

My laughter is wholly without humor. “ I’m the one being unreasonable? Are you serious? You’re not letting me leave, you asshole!”

“Because if you leave when you’re still angry, you might not want to see me again!”

And I have nothing. Nada. Not a damn thing. I stand there and stare at him while he proves my point. Whatever is going on between us is more than just friendship. I have no idea how or when, but feelings have been caught by both sides. It might only be lust. Something we can learn to ignore. But he’s lying when he says it doesn’t exist, and now he knows it too. The evidence is right there on his somewhat startled face.

He hangs his head and stares at the hardwood floor. His shoulders rise and fall and the sides of his chest expand with his breathing. “Say something.”

“I honestly don’t know what to say.”

“Yes, you do.” He stands tall and moves toward me. He takes a step forward and I take a step back. We keep moving like this until I am backed into the closest corner. With a hand to the wall on either side of me, I am caged, and he is right the hell there. Both of us breathing heavier than normal. My heart is beating so hard it’s about to break right out of my chest. Being this pissed off and turned on at the same time is a lot. “Go on.”

“I don’t want to keep arguing with you,” I say. “I also feel like I’ve won, so it’s probably best to quit while I’m ahead.”

“You’ve won, huh?”

I just shrug.

His gaze drops to my mouth and stays there. Is he going to kiss me? I have no idea how we went from arguing to this, but I am not complaining. I lick my lips and his dark gaze tracks the movement. Fuck. This is actually going to happen. But then he takes a step back and my heart sinks to my toes. I am not surprised. Though I am disappointed.

“So,” I say.

“So,” he replies.

“It would seem that one of us has some abandonment and intimacy issues that could do with a little work.”

“I’m happy to find you a good therapist if that would help.”

Patience is a great virtue. A pity I’m currently out of the stuff. “Okay. I better—”

“My pool is heated,” he says out of nowhere. “I don’t think I mentioned that.”

“What?”

“My pool is heated,” he repeats.

“Your pool is heated?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, no, you didn’t mention that before.”

He just looks at me.

“That’s nice,” I continue. “I can see how it would come in handy during the cooler weather.”

Without another word, he bends at the waist and tugs off his boots. First one, then the other. Same goes for his socks. Then he straightens and removes his T-shirt. Just takes a handful of the fabric covering his back and drags it off over his head. It’s amazing I don’t swallow my tongue. My fingers itch to touch. From his pecs to his neat brown nipples and the trail of dark hair leading down from his belly button to the waistband of his jeans. He’s giving me a heart attack with this show of skin. Perhaps this is how I die. It’s a few days early. But not a bad way to go.

“Ali, what are you doing?”

He crosses his arms over his perfect chest. “You had ‘skinny-dipping’ on your wish list.”