Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“You’ll be alone.” This is the second time he’s said this. Like it’s a sticking point for him. “It’s not long now until the draw.”
“I don’t mind my own company.”
A line appears between his dark brows, but he says nothing. Not at first. “I hate that you’re so worried. That you’re even giving this bullshit the time of day.”
“You don’t even know me. I’m just a random stranger, Ali. Can I call you Ali?”
“I would very much appreciate it if you never called me that again.” He signals to the bartender and says, “She needs another bottle of champagne.”
“Those things are expensive. Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Why is it so surprising that someone would be nice to you?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question. It’s obnoxious.”
He gives me an amused look. He has many of them. Though they do generally tend more toward dismay than delight. “I am curious about how all of this turns out. I like hearing about people’s lives. Tell me about your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. The one who cheated on you.”
“Ew.” I scrunch up my nose. “Why?”
He tosses a peanut in the air and catches it with his mouth. The man has skills. I’m a little surprised he would do something so déclassé.
“We’d been dating since last summer,” I say. “He was in sales. I thought we were ready to try living together, but apparently not.”
“That’s it?”
“What?”
“That dry statement of facts is how you sum up your most recent romantic relationship?”
The new bottle of champagne arrives. He was right. I do need it. I could give or take oxygen, but alcohol in this situation is a must. “Were you expecting me to cry?”
“I was expecting you to care.”
“Fuck you,” I say calmly and clearly. “I care very much that someone I trusted just betrayed me.”
He pauses. “I apologize. Of course you do. I shouldn’t have said that.”
I nod and accept his apology like a gracious queen.
“But just out of curiosity, did you love him?”
“You can’t ask things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Aren’t you people supposed to be all about good manners?” This is a fine time to dodge and evade to my heart’s content. My mouth, however, won’t shut up. In vino veritas. “No. I didn’t love him. I liked him and I liked us as a couple, and I thought that would be enough. Like more would come given time, you know?”
He nods and picks up another peanut.
“What about you?”
His face goes blank and he’s suddenly on guard. “What about me?”
It would seem I have put my foot in it. He is allowed to ask me personal questions, but it doesn’t work the other way. Interesting. Though what would I know about being Alistair George Arthur Lennox, who has the whole damn world watching his every move. Despite having his back to the restaurant, he continues to draw attention. The maître d’ has asked several people to stop taking pictures.
“Well?” he asks in a cranky tone of voice.
“What’s your favorite book?”
“My favorite book? That’s what you want to know?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, he just stares at me. Then he says, “Catcher in the Rye.”
“Ugh. You’re kidding me. No. That’s so...ugh.”
“You already said that.”
“It bears repeating. There’s just so much wrong with that choice.”
“Is there now?” The corner of his mouth curves upward. “It’s all right, Lilah. I’m joking. It’s The Count of Monte Cristo or The Martian. They were both great.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank goodness.”
“So judgmental,” he tsks.
“Like you’re not.”
Having someone so pretty smiling at you makes it hard to care about anything. A bottle of champagne in your belly doesn’t hurt either.
“I shouldn’t have asked about your boyfriend if I wasn’t willing to share in kind,” he says in a low voice.
“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” I pour myself another glass and think deep thoughts. “Why do you even believe my bizarre story about the witch?”
“I’ve known a lot of liars,” he says, taking his time and choosing his words carefully. “When you were talking about it you had this look. There was fear in your eyes.”
I frown. “I don’t like any of this.”
“Apart from the champagne.”
“I don’t like any of this apart from the champagne,” I correct.
“And me.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Just the champagne.”
“Then why did you specify that you were single?” he asks with a sly gaze. Like he’s caught me or something. Men are such idiots. Seriously.
“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.”