Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Edgar blinked fast, schooling the fear from his face. His eyes came into focus, and he dropped Jamie’s arm.
“I’m good,” he croaked, then cleared his throat. “Sorry about that.”
Jamie frowned. Edgar had looked sincerely terrified. Earlier, when Jamie had mentioned being a haunter, Edgar had gone tense. Jamie had put his response down to nerves, but what if Edgar was genuinely frightened? Some people simply weren’t cut out for horror, no matter how tame. Jamie just wished he’d be honest about it.
“Hey. I shouldn’t have booked this without asking you. If it’s too scary, just tell me. We’ll take off. Go get a drink or something.”
“No, no,” Edgar said quickly. “You’re fine. It’s… I just… Ha ha. Yeah. I guess I got…startled?”
Jamie narrowed their eyes. Edgar was clearly lying, and Jamie loathed lying. But he was lying so badly. Incompetently, really. Was that better or worse? Was it some macho thing about not admitting he was scared? That certainly wasn’t attractive.
“If you say so,” Jamie said.
For the next few blocks though, Edgar seemed fine. They stopped in front of the old Ursuline Convent, and Carys said, “Let me tell you the tale of the filles à la cassette, young girls who arrived from Europe in the eighteenth century and whom locals believed to be vampires.”
Edgar inched back against the wall they stood near. It looked like he was trying to press himself through it. Just as Carys was getting to the good part—Jamie knew this story well—Edgar jerked away and clutched at the plaster behind him, eyes wild.
Something was very wrong.
“Edgar.” Jamie moved in front of him, not wanting to startle him.
“I’m okay. Sorry, ha ha.”
But Jamie wasn’t going to accept Edgar’s dismissals anymore. “No. You’re obviously not. Come here.”
They took Edgar’s hand and tugged him around the corner and away from the tour. Edgar slid down the wall into a crouch. Jamie knelt in front of him.
“What’s wrong?” they asked as gently as they could.
Edgar shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry.”
“Listen,” Jamie said. “I’m really worried about you. I get that we don’t know each other that well so you might not wanna tell me what’s up with you. And that’s okay. But please don’t lie to me. I don’t—lying is not okay with me. It makes me feel like I can’t trust you, and if I can’t trust you, I don’t want to be around you. I don’t mean to be harsh, but it’s nonnegotiable.”
“I get it. I, um. Something is wrong. With me. But, uh. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Relief that Edgar wasn’t going to keep lying swept through Jamie. Sure, they wished Edgar would trust them enough to tell them what was wrong. But honesty was a start.
“Okay,” Jamie said. “Thank you.”
Edgar nodded miserably. “I guess we should find the tour?”
“No way. This is clearly not enjoyable for you, and a date is supposed to, like, not be horrible.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Edgar said with a ghost of a smile.
When Edgar said that he hadn’t dated in a while, Jamie’s first thought had been, How is that possible? Now though, they had more than an inkling of how it was possible. Something more than first date nerves was definitely going on with Edgar.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Edgar frowned. “What about Carys? We can’t just leave.”
“I’ll text her. She’ll understand.”
Edgar bit his lip.
“I won’t tell her you were scared, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Edgar frowned but acquiesced.
Jamie stood and held out a hand. Edgar took it and let Jamie haul him up. His palms were slick with sweat.
Jamie put a hand on Edgar’s back and walked them toward a bar with a quiet back patio that tourists didn’t know about.
“Is this okay?” they asked Edgar when they got there.
He nodded as he trailed in after them, looking diminished.
“Here, you sit and save the table, and I’ll get us drinks. What would you like?”
“A ginger ale, please.”
Jamie squeezed his shoulder. “You’re okay if I leave for a minute?”
“Yeah.” Then he added, “I promise.”
Jamie made their way to the bar and ordered drinks. They texted Carys, apologizing for ducking out early and assuring her it had nothing to do with her excellent tour-guiding.
Obviously, she replied with a winky emoji.
Then they had nothing to do except ponder what the hell was up with Edgar. Was he on drugs? His behavior was erratic and confusing enough. In witness protection and constantly on the lookout for his old life coming after him? Surely, witness protection would pick a more common name than Edgar Lovejoy, wouldn’t they? Perhaps it was garden-variety mental health stuff, and Edgar was simply having a rough day. Or week or month.
But most likely was that the obvious solution was the right one: Edgar wasn’t really that into Jamie romantically, and he didn’t want to hurt Jamie’s feelings.