The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

Chapter 21

21

Sunday

“Leannan,” a voice whispers in my ear. “Wake up.”

My eyes open to find Alistair staring down at me. What a wonderful sight to see first thing in the morning. He carefully brushes my hair out of my face with a distracted smile. No idea how long he’s been up for, but he’s already dressed. The warm scent of his cologne and rumpled sheets beneath me make for a great morning. At least, they would under normal circumstances. But today is not normal in the least. The red in his eyes from lack of sleep attest to that. Like it or not—and I definitely do not—this could very well be my last day on Earth. Fuck. I don’t even know what to think about that. It’s an existential type of terror. From the time we’re old enough to understand death and dying, the idea of our life being over follows us around. It’s an ominous shadow with as big or as little a role to play as we allow. And right now, for me, it is a big enough stain to block out the sun.

“Hey,” I say with my best fake smile. “Is your father here?”

“About to arrive.”

“Okay.” I take a deep breath and sit up, covering my breasts with the sheet. Sunlight streams through the gap in the curtains. “What do you want me to do? Stay here or come to the main house or what?”

“Given everything, I think I’d like to keep you close today.”

“I thought you weren’t interested in the death-and-doom prediction.”

He frowns. “As much as it irks me to admit it, now that the day is here, I might be just a tiny bit concerned.”

“Okay.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Lilah. I won’t allow it. It took me a long time to find you. I refuse to lose you now.”

I do my best to keep my smile steady, but the urge to burst into tears of fear or happiness or I don’t know what is immense. “How long do I have to get ready?”

He winces. “Five minutes?”

“Shit.”

“I wanted to give you as much of a lie-in as I could.”

I make for the edge of the mattress as he moves aside. Mornings aren’t really my thing. But never mind. No time to wallow in bed and ponder the meaning of life and death. And honestly, I’ve had a week to do that, and it hasn’t helped.

“Hurry but be careful,” he says. “Those tiles in the bathroom can be a little slippery when wet. We don’t want you falling.”

“I’m fine.”

“And go easy with your hairbrush and toothbrush and so on.”

“I’m not going to choke on my own toothbrush, Ali. Calm down, please.”

“Maybe I should come with you...”

Which is about when I close the bathroom door to get a moment’s peace to pull myself together. I hand-washed my underwear with soap last night and left it hanging over a towel rack. Yesterday’s top and jeans are okay for another round. I tie back my hair in a ponytail and brush my teeth. Meeting royalty should be a bigger deal, necessitating a trip to the salon and actual fresh and pressed clothing. On the other hand, it’s just another jerk who has treated Alistair like crap. Lip gloss and mascara will do.

“Ready?” he asks with his blank face back on and his hand held out to me. His fingers close around mine and hold on tight. “Let’s get this over and done with so I can get you some breakfast.”

“That sounds like a great plan. I really need coffee.”

“So,” he says. “Last night when I couldn’t sleep, I did some thinking. Whether I believe in the validity of predictions or not, the others have come true. I was therefore thinking it wouldn’t be imprudent of us to take some precautions today.”

“I’m listening.”

“What if after this we spend the day holed up in the guesthouse? Just you and me.”

“You mean stay off the road in case of any crashes, away from the general public in case of I don’t know what, and generally keep me close so you can keep an eye on me?”

“Yes,” he says. “That about sums up my plan. Are you amenable?”

“Sounds good.” As if I would not want to spend my possible last day with the person I have big feelings for. Really big. Like, huge. “But if a toilet seat from a space station plummets to Earth and kills both of us on impact, it’s not my fault that you die too just because you were with me.”

He gives me a long look.

“It’s a plot point from an old TV show.”

“Okay.”

“You have to admit, it would make for an interesting death.”

He gives me another of those looks.

“Then there’s getting stoned by the townsfolk like in ‘The Lottery’ by Shirley Jackson. Or pulled into the sewer by a monster like Georgie in It by Stephen King,” I say, the words flowing faster and faster from my mouth. “And how about when—”

“Stop,” orders Alistair. “Breathe.”

I do as I’m told and suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Sorry. I was getting panicky and babbling, wasn’t I?”

“Just a little. Which is not a problem. But perhaps you could choose a friendlier topic to discuss? One that won’t send us both into a meltdown.”

“Right. Yeah.”

He just waits.

“I’m good,” I say with a grim smile. “Nothing dire is going to happen. Everything will be fine.”

“Are you just saying that to pacify me?”

“Both of us, really.” I pull myself up tall. “Let’s do this.”

The road to the main house is cluttered with shiny vehicles of all shapes and sizes, including a limousine. Traveling incognito obviously isn’t His Highness’s specialty. Makes me wonder if there’ll soon be media waiting at the gate. It can’t be easy keeping a trip like this secret. Security people in their universal uniform of chinos and polos watch us from behind their sunglasses. Talk about the feeling of having eyes on you. They’ve taken over the property, apparently. I am happy to be holding Alistair’s hand because it’s all intimidating as heck. I do not, however, let it show on my face. Not a chance. We don’t rush past them toward the house, but we don’t dawdle either. It wouldn’t do to keep His Highness waiting too long.

Silence fills the inside of the house. Lady Helena is perched on the arm of the lounge wearing a hot-pink dress with a poufy skirt and spaghetti straps. A floppy black bow sits in the center of the low neckline, and this dress is a lot, but she pulls it off just fine. Her makeup is just so, and her heels are sky-high. If this is her revenge dress, then I approve. Meanwhile, Dougal stands behind her with his arms crossed over his chest. Such an expression of disapproval on his craggy face and it is all directed at the man standing opposite.

Lady Helena beams as we walk in. “There you are, my darlings.”

“You look amazing,” I say.

“What? This old thing?” She gives me a wink. “It’s just a Christian Lacroix I picked up in the eighties. Thought it was fitting for today.”

The king’s demeanor is highly unimpressed. Regardless of having just stepped off a plane, his shirt and slacks appear freshly pressed. As if a wrinkle would dare mar such a personage. Not fucking likely. The outfit is rounded off with a blazer. His mouth is a flat line and his eyes are unhappy. No idea exactly what I was expecting, but he could be anyone’s uptight uncle. Sort of stuffy and vaguely commanding. But also ordinary in a way. The family resemblance is more obvious in the flesh. How the high forehead and deep set of his eyes have been passed down to his son. His gaze locks on to Alistair and his jaw goes rigid. Another thing the father and son have in common.

“Go on, then,” Lady Helena says to him. “Say what you came all this way to say. Or would you like a formal introduction first?”

Nothing from the king as he stares at his son silently. And Alistair returns the stare as calm as can be.

Lady Helena stands and executes a perfect curtsy. This is not her first time dealing with the high and mighty. “Your Royal Highness, may I present to you your firstborn child, Alistair George Arthur Lennox. Accompanying him is his delightful fiancée, Lilah.”

His Royal Highness doesn’t even spare me a glance. Talk about being put in your place.

“My apologies for the lack of middle and surname, Lilah,” says Her Ladyship. “I don’t actually know them yet.”

I give her a discreet thumbs-up.

Alistair jerks his chin. “Why are you here, sir?”

The king blinks at the harsh tone of voice. “We met once before a long time ago. I don’t suppose you remember.”

“I remember perfectly. I was in your way. You told me to move.”

Dougal snorts. “That’s all you had to say to your son? And he was a wee lad and all. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I don’t recall your opinion being asked for,” snaps the king. “Who even are you? Why are you here?”

“Dougal lives here and is part of our family. He belongs here. But why are you here, sir?” asks Alistair again. And there’s something about the way he says sir . It makes his feelings on the matter of this veritable stranger known to one and all.

Lady Helena sighs. “That’s what we all want to know. If you’d be so kind as to answer?”

“What I’m about to say cannot go beyond this room,” orders the king. “Is that understood?”

No one says a thing. So much tension. You would need a sword at least to cut it—a knife would be insufficient. An axe is not out of the question.

In an ever so slightly more conciliatory tone, he asks again. “Do I have your word?”

“None of us have any interest in being caught up in any of your nonsense.” Lady Helena shakes her head tiredly. “Out with it already.”

The king pulls on the cuffs of his shirt and says, “I need to know if you’ve seen your brother.”

“Wait. What?” asks Lady Helena with much confusion. “You mean James, the Prince of Wales? The one who’s supposed to be about to get married?”

“Yes. He’s currently not communicating with his office nor any family members nor friends. None that I am aware of, at least.” The king’s gaze returns to his son. “He’s always been curious about you. I hoped he might have sought you out.”

“ Hoped is the wrong word,” says Her Ladyship. “Or it’s correct only inasmuch as you hoped coming here would mean you could stop chasing after your wayward second son, right?”

“Just answer the question.”

“ That’s why you leaked news about Alistair and Lilah’s engagement. You’re desperately trying to divert attention that your heir has disappeared. What a disaster.”

“You could enjoy this a little less,” snaps the king.

A bitter smile curves Helena’s lips. “The way you lot throw people under the bus whenever it’s convenient. Just like when your sister announced my young son’s presence to the world. All because she was jealous of the attention your pretty bride was receiving and wanted to tarnish your image. Though she told me recently that she was under the influence at the time. Said she was quite sorry about all the trouble it caused us. Which goes to show, people can change. Sort of.”

Alistair’s eyebrows rise halfway up his forehead. “Alexandra did that? She told the media?”

“Yes, my darling. I always suspected, of course, but never knew for sure. Not until her visit the other day. You don’t think I was pouring magnums of champagne down her neck for the fun of it?”

The king grinds his teeth. “I do not have time to revisit ancient history.”

“But I thought it was you,” says Alistair with emotion.

“Me?” Lady Helena’s eyes go wide. “No, my sweetheart. Having the world find out about you upended our rather nice, quiet little country life. It was a simple sort of existence, but I quite enjoyed those years.”

“You were still living in a castle,” says Dougal. “Not that simple.”

“Oh, hush, old man.” Helena turns back to her son. “Is that what you’ve been upset about all this time?”

“Yes,” says Alistair.

“Huh. How about that. I thought you were just going through a stage.”

“For thirty years?” asks Dougal.

Her Ladyship shrugs. “Relationships between mothers and sons can be tense for all sorts of reasons. Candy, my psychic when we first moved here, told me that. Said to just give you space and the situation would resolve itself eventually. And here we are! She was right!”

“Don’t look at me, lad,” says Dougal. “I’ve been telling her to sit down with you and sort it out forever.”

“That’s true. He has.”

“If you don’t mind,” says the king in his outside voice. “Has anyone seen my son?”

“Your other son, you mean?” asks Her Ladyship. “Your second-born?”

“Helena, now is not the time!”

“Do not raise your voice at her,” says Alistair in warning. “No one’s seen him. Was there anything else you wanted, or will you be on your way?”

The king’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He must have thought better about whatever he was going to say. Which goes to show he’s not a complete idiot.

“Foolish of me to think you’d have anything of value to say to me,” continues Alistair. “But you’re only here because of your real son. The one whose birth meets your archaic bullshit standards.”

“That isn’t true.” His Highness’s gaze warms the smallest amount. “I was hoping we could have a word in private.”

“About your generous offer to be seen in public with me?”

“Amongst other things.”

“I’d like to say something first,” says Lady Helena, waving a hand in the air. “Now seems like as good a time as ever. If I could have everyone’s attention, please?”

His Highness sucks on his teeth with pure irritation. “What is it?”

“You and I have been each other’s bad habit for many years. I think it’s time for that to stop.” Her smile gentles. “I’m going to be blocking your number. All your numbers. And all the numbers of all the lackeys who work for you. I would ask that you respect my decision and not attempt to contact me. There will be no more moaning to me about your marriage or duties or anything else. And no more funny stuff over the phone either. We’re finished. For good this time.”

The king pauses. “You can’t mean that, Hel.”

“But I do,” she says calmly. “I don’t blame you for not believing me. There have been so many occasions when I should have ended things once and for all. But the reality is you chose not to choose me a long time ago. Then you kept on choosing to turn your back on me and our child so long as our existence didn’t suit you. I don’t know why I kept forgiving you. Well...I do... The heart is an exceptionally stupid organ. However, this time I really am done, and I’m going to make the smart choice. The one I should have made a long time ago.”

“Hel...”

Then Lady Helena turns to Dougal and asks, “Feel like eloping with me?”

Dougal ponders the question for a moment. “Well, I don’t know. Where were you thinking?”

“Venice or maybe Lake Como? I feel like pasta and red wine for some reason. We could have gelato instead of wedding cake. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Dougal scrunches up his nose. “Not Europe at this time of year. The damp will play havoc with my knees.”

“Fine,” says Lady Helena under much duress. “How about...oh, I don’t know, Cairns?”

“Australia? Aye. That’ll do.”

Alistair’s mouth just hangs open. So does the king’s.

“Just to be certain we’re both on the same page,” says Her Ladyship. “We are getting married, old man?”

“That’s right.” Dougal nods. “Thought you’d never come to your senses and ask.”

“I’m a slow learner. What can I say?” Lady Helena shrugs. “How about a glass of champagne for everyone to celebrate?”

“At this hour of the morning?”

“Mimosas, then,” she says decidedly. “Don’t bother buying me a ring. I have more than enough of them already.”

“If I did, you’d just lose it anyway.”

Lady Helena’s smile is huge. “That’s true.”

“B-but you can’t,” splutters the king. “He’s your gardener or butler or whatever the hell he’s supposed to be.”

Dougal raises one brow. “Aye. I am. And I’ll be sure to do a fine job of being her husband as well. She’s a high-needs woman, to be sure. But then, I’m a very giving man.”

“Yes, you are. Which way is the kitchen again?” Lady Helena asks, heading for the hallway. “We’re going to need juice and maybe some little snacky things. I can’t decide between sweet and savory. What do you think would suit?”

“Not sure. But there’s bound to be something that’ll do.” Dougal follows his fiancée. “Let’s see what’s in the fridge.”

Father and son both seem to be somewhat stupefied. At least, they’re both staring at the newly betrothed couple as they leave the room. The expressions of disbelief for Alistair and horror for the king are rather comic.

“I just want to say right now, we are not having a double wedding.” I also head for the exit. “Do not let her talk you into it.”

“No,” agrees Alistair. “Where are you going, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“To give you two some privacy.”

A line appears embedded between his brows. “You could wait with Mother and Dougal.”

“I’m not standing there watching those two make out. Don’t ask me to do that. It’s too much.”

“Fair point.” He holds out his hand. “Stay with me. Please. I trust you. There’s nothing we’re going to say that you can’t hear.”

The king opens his mouth to no doubt disagree, but Alistair repeats, “Nothing.”

“You’re serious about her,” his father says. Though it’s strange to think of him that way. He’s been a grim face in magazines and online gossip sites my whole life.

“You know, you’ve been this distant disapproving figure since I was born. That’s the only contribution you’ve made to my life. So you’ll understand when I say your opinion regarding my fiancée is not required.”

I hold Alistair’s hand and keep my mouth shut. For now, at least.

The king tugs on his cuffs and stands up straight. “I understand my sister shared the details regarding the opportunity for you to attend some smaller official events this spring. To be introduced to the public and to meet more of the family in a somewhat formal setting. It would be a chance for you to be recognized to a certain degree.”

“Listen to you,” drawls Alistair.

“I’m being as forthright as I can be.”

“Which is not much. The optics aren’t great, are they?” he asks. “Your heir doing a runner and all. Those rumors about your own marriage falling apart.”

The king’s lips are a fine line. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Of course not. Because we’re not really family. Family are the people who care for you, and that has never been you.”

“It would be foolish of you to be pining for some emotional outpouring from me.”

“But when you use me to deflect attention with the media, you put Lilah in the frame as well. I don’t like that.”

“The world knows who you are, Alistair. There’s nothing I can do to remedy that.”

“There’ve been many things you could have done over the years to try and ease the way for me. Whether it be encouraging your pet paparazzi to give me space or to send a simple message of support and fatherly affection. But you chose to do none of those things.” Alistair’s fingers tighten around mine. I give his hand a squeeze. Just to let him know I am with him. And his grip eases some. “Now you decide I can be useful.”

The king’s nostrils flare like a pissed-off stallion. There’s every chance Alistair gets his temper from that side of the family. Though he generally hides it better.

“I have no interest in attending your garden party, Father. Nor will I be marrying someone you choose for me. What I will be doing is spending time with my fiancée and working on my relationship with my mother. Someone who I can now see I have been a complete dick to for no good reason.”

“You should be with someone suitable,” the king argues. “Someone who could handle the public demands of your position.”

“I should be with someone I love who makes me happy.”

“As if that lasts...” The king scoffs. “You have a position to uphold. Like it or not, you come from bloodlines that require things of you.”

“I don’t owe you a fucking thing.”

“Marrying this woman would be a mistake. She is—”

“It would not be wise of you to finish that sentence,” Alistair says in a low tone.

It would also be fair to say I have had enough of being insulted by royal assholes this week. “Time for some fresh air. I’m going to go stand out by the pool. Right there where you can see me, okay?”

Alistair frowns. “Keep the glass door open, please.”

I nod and give his hand another squeeze before heading out the front of the beach house. The king doesn’t deserve any sort of acknowledgment from me. Let them look down on me all they like. I refuse to care what they think. Life is too short to worry about the opinions of assholes.

Between the house and the beach is a large lagoon-style pool surrounded by assorted lounges and umbrellas. All the space Lady Helena could desire to loll about with a drink in hand. Lots of decorative rocks and seaside daisies with a neat row of hedges to maintain a boundary between her and the outside world. To try to protect her privacy without blocking too much of the view.

It’s warm today in the sun. I take off my shoes and wander onto the first step to get my toes wet. The pool is of course kept at a civilized temperature. My reflection wavers in the water surrounding my feet. Out here, I can breathe better already. What a morning. The idea of cuddling up in the guesthouse with Ali for the rest of the day is growing more appealing by the moment. Just lock out the world and enjoy the peace.

As promised, I stand where he can see me. By the pool with my back to the house, staring out at the ocean. On the off chance I don’t die, I am due back at work tomorrow. I’ve missed the books and stacks and all the avid readers. It would almost be a relief to return to a normal daily routine again. Nothing has been ordinary since I crossed paths with Good Witch Willow. Though the lotto money gives me the luxury of choice. To think of all those libraries out there I’ve always wanted to see, like the Strahov Library in Prague and the Starfield Library in Seoul. Ali mentioned something about wanting to travel. We could go together.

A flock of seagulls takes flight from down on the sand, and I turn my head to track them. One bird swoops in the general direction of the house before returning to the rest. Imagine owning a house with such a view. Lady Helena was right—it would be a nice place for a wedding. The way my heart squeezes tight in excitement at the thought. It makes a nice change from the ongoing angst. The man is going to give me arrhythmia. Perhaps that’s how I die—due to excessive swooning over a certain Scot. Not a bad way to go. To do such a death justice, I would really need a velvet chaise longue to genteelly collapse upon (while wearing some billowy white gown) and then expire with much Gothic romance drama.

Which is the absolute nonsense I am thinking when the seagull circles back and does another dive. And this time it’s aimed straight at my head. It all happens so fast. I wave my arms in the air to ward off the bird. It screeches and flaps its wings, coming at me yet again. You would think I was Tippi Hedren or a French fry or something. All of this fucks my balance, and my feet slip on the pool’s smooth ceramic tiles. I am falling before I even know what’s going on. The stone edge of the pool rises to meet my face and everything goes black.

When I come to, my throat is burning and my chest feels much the same. The world above me is a shapeless blaze of light that I don’t understand. Hands roll me onto my side and pool water gushes out of my mouth and nose. A Niagara Falls amount of the stuff. I do my best to choke down some air. It’s like oxygen has become a solid and my lungs have forgotten how to operate. The way they seize and stop and start. Oh my fucking God. There isn’t an inch of me that isn’t waterlogged and aching. But it’s my face that pounds in time with the beat of my heart.

“That’s it.” Alistair rubs my back with much vigor. “Get it out.”

“An ambulance is on its way,” says Dougal somewhere close by.

“She’s conscious. She’s okay,” answers Lady Helena. “Thank goodness!”

My vision swims and oh, shit . There is every chance I am about to black out. But I roll onto my back and those same strong hands are there to help me and hold me steady. I try to swallow and even that hurts.

“Take it easy, Leannan. Nice and slow.”

The world stops wavering and rights itself at last. The shapes of people nearby and the world around us solidify into reality. I am lying by the pool with my head on Alistair’s lap. He stares down at me with stark lines of worry embedded in his face. His clothes are dripping wet the same as mine.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he breathes.

“What happened?” I ask weakly.

“I was about to ask you the same damn question. One minute you were standing there watching the beach. The next you were floating face down in the fucking pool. I’ve never... Please don’t do that again.”

“No.”

“You weren’t breathing,” he says with all due horror. I reach up to touch my forehead to locate the exact spot of all the pain. But he catches my fingers and says, “You’ve got a bad gash there that’s bleeding. Best not to touch it.”

“Take this.” The king steps forward and offers a handkerchief. He gives me a curt nod, like Good work for not dying and making things even more awkward or whatever.

Alistair holds the neatly folded-up cloth to my temple. “Lilah, did you hear me? You weren’t breathing when I pulled you out of that pool. Do you understand?”

“You mean I was dead? I actually died?” Ouch. Frowning is a bad idea.

He just nods.

“Huh.”

“One moment,” says the king, sounding astonished. “You almost die and that’s all you’ve got to say regarding the matter? ‘Huh’?”

“It wasn’t completely unexpected.” Lady Helena sighs. “But that’s a long story and none of your business.”

The two bodyguards standing beside the king appear just as mystified by this statement as the man himself. Not that anyone is in a mood to explain. Weirding out royalty could be seen as an accomplishment. It wasn’t on my original wish list, but I don’t hate the addition.

“I am not officially here,” the king announces with his usual stern expression back in place. “It’s best if I leave before emergency services arrive. Alistair...”

“You should go,” answers his son without hesitation.

Lady Helena wiggles her fingers at him in farewell.

Dougal grunts and gives him a sour look.

Without further ado, the king and his retinue leave the scene. It sort of seemed as if he wanted to say more. To have more time with his firstborn child. But then, he’s had forty years to say something.

“I can’t believe it. I’m alive.” The sense of relief is staggering. How the predictions have all come true and I am still here. Amazing.

Alistair just nods.

“A seagull dive-bombed me,” I add in a harsh whisper. My throat still feels like it has been scraped raw. I do not recommend drowning. Not at all.

“What did you say?” asks Alistair.

“A seagull. I fell. Hit my head.”

“A seagull attacked you?” His brows rise to all new heights at the news. “So, you lost your footing and hit your head falling into the pool? Is that what you mean?”

I nod and wince. Neither talking nor moving are great. “Willow was right.”

“Yeah. Guess she was. You weren’t breathing...didn’t have a pulse. You actually died.” He carefully dabs my forehead with the handkerchief. “No more of this shit, Leannan. I love you, and thinking you were gone took about a decade off my life.”

“Wh-what did you say?”

“You heard me.”

I am not going to cry. My eyes are just glitching or something. It’s been a really big morning.

“Och.” He presses a gentle kiss to the tip of my wet nose. “I’ve been following your fine ass around town for a week now. How could you not have suspected?”

“I love you too.”

“Lucky for me,” he says with a smile.

Off in the distance, the sound of an ambulance draws closer.

Lady Helena also sniffles somewhere nearby. “Oh, that was so beautiful. You two really are the cutest.” Then she gasps. “You know what I just thought of? We could have a double wedding! Isn’t that a great idea?”