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)
The only possible problem with this morning is my view of my new Hermès watch ticking away on my wrist. Its second hand makes precise motions around and around. Marking the minutes of my life slipping away. And this could be my almost last day on Earth. It’s like there’s a waiting pit of doom and gloom inside me. A yawning abyss of fear and misery.
No. I refuse to think about that. Not today. Or not right now, at least.
“Go back to sleep,” Alistair mumbles in my ear. Then he grumbles something else I can’t make out.
I shuffle about and roll onto my back instead. All the better to see him and ignore my watch. He really is ridiculously attractive. And rich. Though I choose not to hold that against him. It’s his heart that gets me—so guarded and yet so giving. Feeling so much about someone so quickly should make me worry. There’s a lot on the line. More of me is invested in him and making this work than is safe. But I couldn’t stop now if I tried. My heart is all sorts of hung up on him, and it’s much too late to gird my loins. That country was successfully conquered and then some.
So I happy sigh and stare at him some more. On the off chance my demise is at hand, at least we had this time together. No one can take these memories of waking up beside Alistair Lennox after a wonderful night. And not even the cloudy day could diminish my general feeling of joy.
Speaking of which, the likelihood of my dying sooner rather than later has now increased. Given the past day’s events and all. I can no longer award the soulmate prediction only half a point due to us meeting. There are now feelings to be considered. This takes the prophecy tally up to a solid three-quarters. I still don’t know if we’re soulmates. But what even is a soulmate, really?
At any rate, there’s now a 3.5 or 70 percent chance of me dying. Which sucks. I need to make my last days count. Go out with a bang. Or more banging. Which works for me.
He opens one eye and says, “What are you doing?”
“Being present and appreciating the moment.”
“Mmm.”
“And thinking.”
“About what?” he asks with a yawn.
“I just want you to know that there doesn’t need to be any hasty revisiting of people’s feelings. I am perfectly happy as things are now.”
Lines fill his forehead. “We’re getting straight into it, are we? Okay. Let me ask you, Lilah, do you see dating as a type of commitment?”
“Did we actually get around to confirming the dating thing?”
“Aye.”
I frown in confusion. “When?”
“Last night.”
“So you saw it as just a sort of bang-it-out situation?”
“Bang it out. Please.” He sniffs. “I wooed you properly. Made an eloquent speech on the subject and all.”
“Oh. That sounds nice. Remind me again when you did that?”
“Let me think.” He scratches his stubble. “It was around two p.m. After the third time. If you slept through it, that’s on you. I just assumed you were overjoyed to be my significant other but too overcome with emotion to respond.”
“Sounds plausible.”
He gives me a flash of a smile. “That’s what I thought. So there’s no need for us to talk about our feelings again. It’s all sorted.”
“I’m significant, huh?”
“Damn right you are.”
“That’s nice to hear.”
“I have to admit, I was a little worried you might have changed your mind. That you might have decided you’d had your fill of this circus after yesterday. You know, it’s still not too late. Though I’d be very hurt, Leannan,” he says. “You might have noticed I’ve grown somewhat fond of you.”
Whoa. The warmth that fills my chest at his words.
A buzzing noise comes from the bedside table. “Ugh. Is that my phone?”
“No. Mine.”
“Are you going to answer it?”
“Not yet,” he says, stretching his neck. Then he stops and stares at me. “You’re still worried about something. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“I’m really glad we got this time together. It means a lot to me.”
His gaze narrows and he scowls. “You’re thinking about that damn death prediction again.”
“It’s hard not to. Seeing the lotto money appear in my account yesterday makes it more real somehow. But how many people win the lotto each year? Hundreds?”
“Thousands.”
“Thousands.” I cover the worry lines on my forehead with the palm of my hand. Like it helps. “Right.”
“Please hear me when I say that fucking prediction isn’t real. You’re not dying on me anytime soon. It’s rude and unnecessary and I won’t allow it,” he declares. “I think it’s time I had a talk with this Great Witch Willa face-to-face. Get this sorted out once and for all.”
“You want to meet Good Witch Willow?”
“Yes. As soon as possible.” His cell buzzes again. With a groan, Alistair stretches to reach for his cell, and the sheet slides down. And down some more. He really is incredibly distracting. I don’t mean to objectify the man, but oh well. With a frown at the screen he says, “What the fuck?”