‘Actually, no.’ It’s my turn to laugh, but there isn’t a shred of humour in it. ‘She was great about it. Better than I expected, even.’
Elias pauses, cue held steady. ‘But?’
‘But she made a comment about how much she wants a family.’
‘So you ended it.’ It’s not a question. He knows.
‘Yeah.’ I spin the cue in my hands. ‘She can’t have that with me.’
He makes a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a tut, then cleanly pots a long shot before standing straight, cue propped in front of him. ‘Well, no, not traditionally.’ He hikes his thumb over his shoulder, towards the door. ‘Though those idiots through there make a hell of a replacement. I’m gonna miss them when they grow old and die.’
There’s humour in his words, but a thread of something darker beneath. I try not to think about how many friends he’s lost over the years. It’s a wonder he still lets himself get close to people at all. I suddenly understand why he occasionally sleeps for a decade or two.
Speaking of sleep.
‘You stayed here?’ I ask, realising that he’s dressed exactly the same as he was at the gig last night.
He eyes me suspiciously, like he thinks I’m trying to change the subject– which, in his defence, I am. ‘I did.’
‘Where did you sleep?’ There was a person on nearly every surface of the living area when I looked round earlier. Unless he shared Quinn and his girl’s bed. I shudder at the thought.
Elias just laughs. ‘Here.’ He motions to the pool table before casually potting another yellow in a corner. ‘I honestly thought it was a bed.’
I hum, not quite a laugh. ‘That must have been some after-party.’
‘Yup.’
He looks fresh as a daisy now. One of the perks of vampirism is that we heal too quickly to get hangovers. Feel a bit drained, sometimes, but there are ways of dealing with that.
‘I feel like you’re deflecting,’ he says, chalking his cue.
I sigh. ‘Of course I am.’
It’s hard enough that I’ve lost Lucy. Rehashing it isn’t going to do a damn thing except make me feel worse.
‘And you need to get better at pool, man,’ he says, brandishing his cue at me like it’s a weapon. ‘It isn’t even a challenge.’
‘Maybe you should letmebreak,’ I counter. I haven’t taken a single shot yet.
He smirks. ‘Maybe.’ He sinks the last yellow and then the black in two consecutive, clean shots.
One of the perks of being four centuries old is, apparently, being good at everything. I guess hundreds of years of practice will do that for you.
He slots his cue back into the rack and lopes around to my side of the table, where I can’t avoid him. ‘Want me to give you a lecture about how fucking stupid you’re being?’
I huff out a breath. ‘No.’
‘Well, tough shit,’ he says, flicking back his mop of hair with a practised jerk of his head. ‘You’re getting one.’
But he doesn’t lecture me. Not right away. He just stares at me until I feel the need to explain myself.
‘It’s the right thing to do.’
He screws up his face like he doesn’t believe me. ‘For whom?’
I don’t answer. Definitely not for me. I’m thinking of Lucy here. She deserves better than I can give her.
‘For her, I’m going to take from your silence,’ he says, raising an eyebrow at me. ‘Do you know that? Did it seem like the right thing from her reaction?’