Page 125 of The Turning of the Tables

“We are,” I said, then felt my neck flush. “I mean. Maybe we used to be closer. Before—” I broke off, surprised.

“Before what?” Elliot asked.

“Before I got Arcana,” I breathed.

When he spoke again, I could hear the confusion limning the words. “Isn’t Noah also a wolf shifter?”

“Yeah. But… I can’t tell him I hate being what he is. And it’s not fair to him to demand all his attention, anyway. Or yours,” I put in, recognizing that I’d taken up a lot of his time with my whining.

“You can have as much of my time as you need,” Elliot replied. “And I’m sure Noah would say the same thing if you asked him.”

He probably wasn’t wrong. I grunted anyway, not wanting to admit he was most likely right.

“You know what? Go ask him. Right now,” he said.

“I can’t,” I told him.

“Why not?”

“Noah’s off on a three-week cruise with his flavor of the month.” That wasn’t really fair to Lulu, but I kind of resent Lulu.

“He’s off on a three-week cruise with some woman he’s known a month?”

“No. Lulu’s more like the flavor of the year. I just don’t like them.”

“Why don’t you like them?” I appreciated that he immediately corrected the pronoun.

I sighed. The other thing about Elliot—and this one was actually kind of annoying—was that he made you confront the truth about things, whether you wanted to or not. “Because I don’t like any of Noah’s flavors.”

“So you don’t like Lulu because they’re dating Noah and not for any other reason?”

I flopped dramatically back on my bed, not that Elliot could see that. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“That’s—” He paused.

“Stupid?” I finished.

“I was going to say ‘not productive,’” he countered.

“Noah deserves someone who will treat him like the prince he is,” I said, realizing, even as I said it, that it sounded excessive.

“And Lulu doesn’t?”

“I mean. I’ve only had occasional dinners and movie nights with them? One Easter? I try to stay out of the way when they’re here. They’re fine, I guess.”

“And who is paying for the cruise?”

I scowled. Damn Elliot for being right. “Lulu.”

“Seems pretty princely to me.”

“You just want to burst all my bubbles,” I accused him.

“Only the irrational ones,” he replied. “You don’t want to turn into a bitter, wrinkled old man.”

I snorted. “Why not? Bitter and angry is more productive than being depressed.”

“I know it’s only a one letter difference, but being a Sith isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”