22
Yvonne’s New Year’s parties had been a tradition for as long as Lilah had known her. Naturally, over the past decade, they’d grown in scale and extravagance as Yvonne’s star had risen. Lilah had only missed one, when she’d had the flu so badly she’d been hallucinating.
This year, Pilar and her wife, Wendy, had talked Lilah into agreeing to a blind date with one of Wendy’s business associates, another venture capitalist.
“I don’t know if I want to date a money guy,” Lilah had demurred.
“Hey, watch it. My wife’s a money guy,” Pilar said with a laugh. “It’s just one night. And if he sucks, you can always ditch him and disappear into the crowd. I mean, as much as a six-foot redhead is able to disappear into any crowd.”
Lilah had given in, but as she got ready, she found herself regretting it. In her experience, nine times out of ten, that type of man was looking for a trophy, and not just in terms of looks: they wanted a woman who was the most educated, the most successful, the most accomplished, so it reflected well on them when she gave it all up to raise their children and run their household.
But then, she had to admit that her dating pool was a little limited these days. He was in a totally different industry, so there was less risk of him being threatened by her success or trying to use her for her connections; plus, he had his own money, so he wouldn’t feel emasculated by hers. As unenthused as she was about the prospect, he was the best (and only) option she’d been presented with in months.
She didn’t want to think about Shane, so she didn’t. She definitely wasn’t wondering what he was up to tonight, whether he had a date of his own.
They hadn’t spoken since their Christmas Day phone call, but he’d shown up in her dreams almost every night since, to her chagrin. Apparently, her brain didn’t want to accept that their phone sex joke had been, well, a joke.
Thankfully, she had something more important to preoccupy her as she put the finishing touches on her makeup: she’d probably be hearing about her role in Night Call after the New Year, and she had a gut feeling it was as good as hers.
The week before she’d left to go home, she’d had her callback—one of the best auditions of her life. A few days later, she’d had a long lunch with Marcus Townsend and his wife, Sareeta, with whom he was cowriting the screenplay. The three of them had clicked instantly, chattering a mile a minute, Lilah sharing her insights on the character as Sareeta and Marcus had laid out their plans to bring the book to life. She’d left the meeting on a high, more invigorated than she’d felt in years.
She tried to channel that optimism as she walked into the party, Yvonne’s cavernous living room swarming with people and thudding with music. It didn’t take long before Pilar found her, all in white with Wendy on her arm. Wendy, of course, matched her perfectly, in an all-white suit and her signature cropped platinum hair swooping over one of her eyes.
They introduced her to Kent, a dark-haired white man in his midforties who was decently attractive and seemed perfectly nice. Within five minutes, Lilah could tell she wasn’t into him whatsoever. As they sipped champagne and attempted to make small talk, she had the sinking suspicion that, as often happened, the two of them had only been set up because they were both tall.
“So, are you making any resolutions?” she asked in a light, false tone.
Kent frowned. “I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. Ninety percent of them fail. If you want to make a change in your life, why wait until some arbitrary date to start? It just shows you’re not really serious about it.”
Lilah laughed, but only because she didn’t know how else to respond. “Right.” She gulped down the rest of her champagne, then glanced around desperately for one of the waiters.
She was so distracted by her search that she was caught completely off guard when someone behind her tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned around and saw it was Shane, she was thankfully able to suppress her first instinct to gasp like she was in a soap opera, but she could tell from the amusement in his eyes that he knew just how flustered she was to see him.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said in a tone that indicated he wasn’t very sorry at all.
He was accompanied by a stunning young blonde—the twenty-two-year-old she’d prophesied in Vancouver, by the looks of it. Though they exchanged introductions, the woman’s name might as well have been white noise for how well Lilah was able to retain it.
“What are you doing here?” She directed the question at Shane, but his date answered.
“I work at the label.”
“Bailey’s a friend of Dean’s. He introduced us,” Shane filled in.
Bailey, Lilah filed away.
Shane’s eyebrows lowered, his expression serious. “I didn’t know this was Yvonne’s party until we were on our way here. Really.”
Lilah shrugged. “It’s fine.” She turned back to Kent, threading her arm through his. Shane’s eyes tracked them, and he put his arm around Bailey’s back a second later, but Lilah caught his hesitation, the slight flash of surprise in Bailey’s eyes when he pulled her closer.
Suddenly, Lilah was hit with a brief, overwhelming sense memory of what it was like to be in Bailey’s place. Shane always smelled amazing, unfortunately, whether he was fresh out of the shower or oozing pheromones after hours on set. It was the reason she was constantly stealing his clothes, back when they were together.
She blinked a few times to shake it away, cozying up to Kent, who glanced at her with confusion, since they hadn’t touched at all up until that point.
“I just wanted to come over and say hello because Bailey’s a big fan of the show. She was dying to meet you,” Shane said.
Bailey smiled guiltily. “Sorry, I know I should probably play it cooler, but I was so obsessed with Intangible in high school. We used to have watch parties and everything.”
Lilah smiled, too, forcing herself to relax. “Thank you. That’s really sweet.”
“We were all totally convinced you guys were banging in real life.” Bailey clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide. “Oh, fuck, sorry,” she said, raising her empty champagne flute and laughing nervously. “Guess this is my cue to slow down.”
Lilah met Shane’s eyes, all too aware that both Kent and Bailey were looking at them for a reaction.
“It’s okay. That just means we were doing our jobs,” Lilah said, her smile widening until she felt like she was showing every last one of her teeth.
Shane turned to Kent. “So, how long have you two been seeing each other?”
“This is actually our first date,” Kent said, as Lilah stared at the ground, tension vibrating through her entire body.
“Us, too,” said Bailey. “But you gotta have a date on New Year’s, right?”
“Right. Lock down that midnight kiss,” Shane said innocently, looking directly at Lilah. Lilah felt heat creep up her neck. Was it obvious even to him that there was no spark between her and Kent?
“Right,” Lilah repeated, smiling brightly. “Well, I think I need another drink. It was nice meeting you, Bailey. Shane…” She just nodded at him, unsure what to say, and he returned it, his gaze unexpectedly intense.
She steered Kent through the crowd until they made it to the windowed back wall, swapping out their empty glasses for fresh ones en route. They stood there in awkward silence for a long moment, looking out at the view. Kent ran his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t want to pry, but…is there something going on there? Because I don’t want to get in the middle of anything. That seemed a little…complicated.”
Lilah hesitated, a terse deflection on the tip of her tongue. She took a sip of champagne first, biding her time, weighing her impulse to be honest with him about it.
Or, at least, more honest than she was going to be.
“It’s…‘complicated’ is probably the right word for it, yeah. Working together so closely for so many years…it’s an intense relationship, for sure. Almost like an arranged marriage, in some ways. We’ve definitely been through the wringer. But no, there’s nothing going on.”
Even as she said it, she flashed guiltily to that night in the Airbnb, their phone call on Christmas, the sweaty dreams she’d been having about him since. But for all intents and purposes, she was telling the truth: there was nothing going on between her and Shane. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be here with other people.
Maybe saying it to Kent would help her believe it.
Kent nodded slowly. “It’s a strange profession you’re in. In my line of work, bringing emotion into things is seen as a sign of weakness. But for you, you have to keep yours easily accessible, all on the surface. I could never do that.” He hesitated. “I actually almost backed out of this when I found out you were an actor. I’ve never been involved with one before. I always thought I’d get all jealous and insecure, watching them pretend to be in love with someone else.”
Lilah cocked her head, surprised. She’d encountered that brand of jealousy before, but usually not until it was too late and they were already fighting about it. Something about how candid and up front he was about it caught her off guard.
“So, what made you change your mind?”
Kent grinned. “Wendy spoke very highly of you. Said you were a real ballbuster.”
Lilah bit back a smile, more charmed than she expected. “Not always. Depends on the balls. I’m surprised that was a selling point for you.”
“Not always. Depends on who’s doing the busting.”
He met her eyes with a teasing glance, and for the first time all night, she felt a rush of attraction. Better late than never.
At that moment, his phone buzzed insistently in his jacket. He pulled it out and grimaced.
“Shit. I’m sorry to do this, but I actually need to head out.”
Lilah was surprised to feel a stab of disappointment. “Really? You’re not going to stay until midnight, at least?”
He shook his head. “I have to fly out to New York for some meetings tomorrow, wheels up at five A.M.” He hesitated. “I would ask if you wanted to see each other again, but I’m not totally sure what vibe I’ve been getting from you.”
Lilah brought her hand to her forehead. “God. Sorry. I’m really off my game. Can you tell it’s been a while?”
He cracked a smile. “How about this,” he said. “I’ll give you my number. If you feel like giving me a call, I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. But if not, no hard feelings. Like I said, I understand if things are complicated.”
“Sure. Okay. I’d like that. Really.” Why was she writing Kent off before she’d even gotten to know him? Shane was obviously keeping his options open.
She handed him her phone and he tapped in his number.
He turned to go, then hesitated. “I don’t want to push my luck here, but if I’d stayed…what were my chances of getting that midnight kiss?”
Lilah pressed her index finger to her lips, pretending to think about it. “I’d say it was looking pretty good for you.”
He smiled again. “Damn. You know, that’s almost worse than getting shot down.”
She stepped closer, emboldened by the champagne. “Maybe midnight came early.”
He closed the gap between them, placing his hand on her waist, pausing for a respectful beat, then leaning in to give her a soft peck on the lips.
From a technical standpoint, there was nothing wrong with the kiss. His lips were neither too firm nor too soft, too dry nor too wet. His breath smelled nice, his hand was warm but not clammy on her waist, and he didn’t try to push it any further. But Lilah felt nothing.
In fact, her only physical response came after he’d already pulled away, when her gaze snagged on Shane glowering at her from across the room and she jolted like she’d been struck by lightning.
After saying goodbye to Kent, she recirculated the party with renewed vigor. She tried not to pay too much attention to what Shane was doing, but it was hard not to. Maybe she was imagining it, but she swore she felt his eyes on her when she was toasting with Annie, laughing with Pilar, dancing with Yvonne.
But then, she saw something that knocked him out of her mind completely: Marcus and Sareeta, chatting in a corner.
When Lilah approached them, they greeted her warmly, and the three of them quickly fell into animated conversation about what they’d done over the holidays. Lilah was so on edge that she didn’t retain a thing they were saying, adrenaline pumping through her, her nerves likely palpable.
Once the conversation hit a lull, Marcus’s face turned solemn. “Listen, Lilah,” he said, his clipped British accent softening. “I’m so glad there’s no hard feelings. It really was quite close.”
Lilah’s stomach turned to stone. “Sorry?”
Marcus and Sareeta exchanged stricken glances. “Christ. I thought your agent would’ve notified you already. My apologies; of course it wasn’t my intention to tell you this way.”
Lilah blinked, a smile frozen on her face, the news washing over her like she’d been doused in ice water.
It would be typical of Jasmine to wait until after the New Year to deliver the bad news, so it wouldn’t spoil Lilah’s holiday. She probably hadn’t thought Marcus would have the opportunity to break it to her personally.
Lilah managed to keep her composure long enough to excuse herself as gracefully as possible, her throat tightening. She barely made it out of the crowd before she started crying.
…
He’d felt it for a while, but tonight finally confirmed the suspicion that had been nagging at the back of his mind since Vancouver: Shane was in big fucking trouble where Lilah was concerned.
He’d tried to ignore it. Being unimpressed by the guy she was with—Clint? Brent?—wasn’t jealousy. It was pity that she was stuck with a guy who seemed so goddamn boring. Shane could tell just by looking at him that he was the type who thought having money was a substitute for a personality.
But the feeling he got when he saw her kiss Len, like he’d been punched in the stomach and the dick simultaneously, was one he’d felt only once before, when he’d watched her walk out of that party with Dean. And back then, he’d had a very good reason to feel that way: they’d done it specifically to piss him off.
This had nothing to do with him, though, and he felt it just the same.
It wasn’t even like the kiss was anything to write home about. Barely a peck. But she’d smiled at Clem as she’d pulled away, what he knew was a real smile—which had disappeared as soon as she’d met Shane’s eyes. Maybe even from across the room she could tell what he was thinking—the way he wanted to stride over to her, take her by the hand, and haul her into an empty bedroom, like the last time they’d attended one of Yvonne’s New Year’s parties together.
“What are you looking at?” Bailey had asked, craning her neck, trying in vain to see over the heads of the people around them.
He’d almost forgotten she was there. “Nothing.”
As hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop watching her. Maybe “watching” was the wrong word; it was less premeditated than that. She stood out anyway, statuesque and attention-grabbing even when she wasn’t trying; and tonight, strutting around in fuck-you heels, glittering practically from head to toe, she was trying.
She seemed to have ditched her date at some point and was mostly hanging out with her friends—having the time of her fucking life, from the looks of it. He fought the urge to approach her again. He didn’t have any reason to.
But later in the evening, when he saw a flash of red hurrying out of the room, his feet carried him after her practically before he knew it. Bailey had long since disappeared, so he felt only the smallest twinge of uncertainty as he followed Lilah at a distance down one hallway after another, slipping past the boundaries of where guests were allowed, then disappearing through a doorway.
He hovered outside the door for a minute, debating whether he should turn around and go back to the party. Instead, he opened it.
It was a guest bedroom, by the looks of it—tasteful, immaculate, minimal, everything in it obviously ridiculously expensive.
He didn’t see her, though.
“Lilah?”
A scrap of pale forehead poked up from the other side of the bed, nothing visible below her red-rimmed eyes. His stomach twisted at the sight, and he let out an involuntary exhale through his nose.
“What?” Her voice was thick with sobs.
“Are you okay?”
“Yep.”
“Do you want me to get your friends?”
She shook her head.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?”
She hesitated, her gaze watery but unwavering, then slowly shook her head again.
He shut the door behind him and made his way to the other side of the bed. Lilah was seated on the floor, back propped against the bed, long legs askew like a beat-up rag doll. Next to her was an open bottle of champagne.
He’d never seen her like this. It stirred up the most bizarre cocktail of feelings in him: anger, empathy, protectiveness. He didn’t know what to do with any of them.
He eased himself down onto the floor next to her. “Is it…did that guy do something? What was his name?”
“Kent.” She shook her head. “No. He was fine. Good. He had to leave early for a work thing.” She rolled her head to look at him, the back of it never leaving the bed, like it was too heavy for her to lift. “Where’s Bailey?”
“She went to try to find some coke around…” He checked his watch. “Ninety minutes ago? Haven’t seen her since.”
Lilah snorted through her tears. “Very cool.”
“Yeah. I don’t want to jinx it, but I think she might be the one.” He glanced over at her. “Are you okay?”
She held the bottle on her lap, studying it. “I didn’t get it. That part I really wanted,” she said dully.
“Oh shit. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged, taking a long swig from the bottle. “I feel so stupid. I’ve never cried like this over a role before. It’s such a rookie move, getting invested before I knew for sure I had it. I shouldn’t be this upset.”
“It’s okay to be upset.” He glanced at her. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before. Besides for a scene, I mean.”
She cast her eyes over at him sardonically. “Any notes?”
“Not enough snot. You still look too pretty.”
She laughed, which sounded more like a sob. “I’ll try to work on it for next time.” She passed him the bottle. He took a drink, then set it to his other side, out of her reach. She didn’t object, just leaned her head back against the bed again and closed her eyes.
“I think I just let myself get carried away. You know when you have a really great first date, and you start planning out your whole future together in your head? And then maybe they never text you back, or you get to know them better and you realize they’re not actually who you thought they were. You fell for their potential. That’s what this feels like. It’ll always be the perfect experience, because it never happened.”
Shane nodded slowly. “You never know, though. Maybe it would’ve been another…” He trailed off, not wanting to rub salt in the wound. Luckily, she smirked self-deprecatingly.
“Maybe. I’m sure if I’d lost out on that one, I would’ve felt the same way.” Her smile disappeared and she groaned. “Fuck. Do you think that’s why I didn’t get it? Is that fucking movie going to haunt me for the rest of my career?”
“Nah. I’m sure everyone’s already forgotten about it.”
“I hope so.” She sighed. “It just…it’s scary, you know? The future. You get spoiled, having a consistent gig like this. Makes you forget what it’s actually like out there.”
“Yeah. I don’t know how you do it, honestly.”
“Do what?”
“Just…keep having faith like that. Putting yourself back out there, over and over, when it’s all so out of our control.”
She shrugged resignedly. “I don’t know. I guess I love it enough that it feels worth it.”
Shane took another swig from the champagne bottle, then rested it on his lap, his thumb toying with the foil. “Would you still have done it? Without a Net, I mean. If you’d known back then how it would turn out.”
She was silent for a long time. “Yeah. I would’ve. I learned a lot from that experience. And…I don’t know. It feels right, that I ended up back here.”
It was the way she looked at him as she said it that emboldened him to say the next part:
“What about us?”
Her gaze turned sharp. “What?”
“You know.” He looked down at his lap. “If you’d—if we’d—known. How things would go. Do you think we still would’ve…?” He looked up at her as he trailed off, unsure.
He was relieved when she chuckled, then sighed wearily, closing her eyes. “I don’t think there’s much that could’ve kept us away from each other back then.”
She looked back at him, and something unspoken passed betweeen them. Something he couldn’t quite name.
“I’m so sorry, Lilah,” he said softly.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, then rolled her head to face forward. “Yeah,” she said, even more quietly than he had. “I’m sorry, too.”
Maybe he was reading too much into it, but it didn’t just sound like an apology. It sounded like a lament. For the lost versions of themselves they could’ve been, for the different future they could’ve had, for every choice they’d made along the way that had carried them further away from each other.
“You should do the convention with me,” he blurted out. “With all of us, I mean. In March.”
The other five principals, plus Walt, were all scheduled to travel to San Francisco to make appearances at the biggest pop culture convention of the year. Lilah, as always, was the only holdout.
She scooted herself up from where she’d slumped down until she was sitting upright again, brushing the last stray tears from her eyes.
“What? Why? You know I hate that stuff.”
He felt a pang as he remembered the only one she’d gone to, during the first season—her vacant stare, how uncharacteristically quiet she’d been, her hands laced together so tightly her knuckles went white.
“Yeah, but that was then. It was all still so new. You’re more used to handling it now, right?”
She nodded, a little reluctantly. He continued. “Who knows? You might actually have a good time. It’s fun, meeting people who love the show that much. Enough to take time out of their lives to come see us. Getting the chance to connect with them…it’s really special. They always ask about you, you know.”
“They do?”
“Of course they do.” He shrugged. “Just think about it. It’ll be the last one with us all together like this. Until we’re washed up and doing the nostalgia circuit, I guess. But you deserve to feel some of that love now.”
Her gaze slid sideways, but she didn’t say anything. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Since you talked me out of my comfort zone, I thought I might as well return the favor.”
She perked up. “You’re doing LNL? You decided?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty much a done deal.”
“Scared?”
He cracked a grin. “Extremely.”
She laughed, and to his relief, the thickness was gone from her voice. “That’s a good thing. That means you’re challenging yourself.”
“Or I’m about to make a complete fool of myself.”
“I doubt it. Worst case, you’ll just do okay, and no one will care by next week. But making a complete fool of yourself every once in a while is kind of a guarantee as an actor. Even if it happens, you’ll survive. Speaking from personal experience here.”
He sat with that for a moment.
“Lilah?”
“Hmm?”
“I thought your movie was good, actually.”
She snorted. “Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not,” he insisted. “Okay, yes, the movie sucked. But you didn’t. Honestly, you kind of blew me away. I forgot I was even watching you, most of the time.”
“That was the prosthetics,” she muttered under her breath, but it was clear she was biting back a smile.
He let out an exasperated laugh. “Will you just let me give you a fucking compliment? Jesus.”
She turned to him, tears glinting off her eyelashes again, color high in her cheeks, but she didn’t say anything else. He continued. “You were great in that, and you probably would’ve been great in this one, too. Fuck ’em, it’s their loss. I’m not worried about you. Whatever happens, you’re going to be fine.”
He saw tears fill her eyes again before she quickly looked away, her voice trembling. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“No, you are,” he said, his voice becoming more impassioned. “Because you’re fucking talented, and you work really goddamn hard, and you’re tough as hell. And brave, too. Much braver than me. You’re going to have an incredible career after this, I know you are. You’re…” He paused, searching for the right word. “You’re undeniable.”
She was still looking away, her eyes downcast. Slowly, her hand shifted off her lap, sliding across the floor toward him. It slipped over his, colder than he’d anticipated, their fingers interlacing tightly and seamlessly. Without thinking, he brought his other hand over the top of hers, sandwiching it between both of his, rubbing gently for a few moments until it warmed up.
He lost track of how long they sat there, backs against the bed, legs sprawled in front of them, palms pressed together, fingers intertwined. For some reason, all he could think about was a picture Dean had shown him once of a pair of sea otters holding hands as they slept, to prevent them from being swept away by the current and separated forever.
He shut his eyes, listening to the sound of her breathing, the murmurs of the party far away from them. He didn’t open them again until he heard the countdown, voices shouting loud enough to carry.
“EIGHT! SEVEN! SIX!”
He turned his head to Lilah, who was already looking at him.
Of course he wanted to kiss her. It was all he’d been thinking about since Vancouver—even before then, if he was being honest with himself.
But something about doing it now felt wrong. Like it would cheapen the moment, make it all about sex, crush the delicate, valuable thing fluttering and blooming between them. It wasn’t worth it if there was even the slightest chance she’d think he’d been buttering her up to try to take advantage of her in a moment of vulnerability.
As he looked into her eyes, he knew without a doubt, down to the marrow of his bones, that he wasn’t just in trouble. He was completely fucking in love with her. A love that felt old and new at the same time.
He loved the things that had drawn him to her nine years ago: her beauty, her talent, her drive, her self-possession. He loved the pieces she’d only recently allowed him to see: her loyalty, her courage, her resilience, her tender heart.
He even loved her bad sides, each and every quality that had once repelled him, because she wouldn’t be Lilah without them.
That knowledge didn’t bring him any comfort, though, just a vague feeling of unease. Because it didn’t matter what he felt if she didn’t feel it, too. And on the off chance she did, he suspected she was constitutionally incapable of admitting it. But even if they never saw each other again after the show ended, he knew she would never, ever work her way out of his system. She’d been his other half since the day they’d been cast, their bond as unique as a fingerprint and just as much a part of him.
They ran out the clock without moving, distant cheers drifting over them.
She smiled at him, a little sadly, and squeezed his hand.
“Happy New Year, Shane.”
“Happy New Year, Lilah.”
She hesitated for a moment before angling her body toward him, still holding his hand, reaching for his face with the other. His breath caught in his throat as she cradled his jaw.
“I really do like the beard,” she murmured, her voice sending a ripple of electricity through his veins. “But I miss…” She trailed off, running her thumb across his cheek, pressing it gently into the spot where his dimple would’ve been.
It felt like she was pressing it directly onto his heart.
He swallowed hard before reaching out, too, bringing his hand to her temple, running his fingers through her hair. He thought he saw her shiver at the contact.
“And you were still the most beautiful person in the room, even with that haircut,” he teased.
She laughed, easing some of the tension, but didn’t pull away.
“Don’t remind me. I thought it would never grow out.”
He laughed, too, deepening his grip on her hair without thinking. The amusement drained out of her expression, her eyes going dark and glassy.
Before he had time to react, he heard the door swing open abruptly, followed by a worried voice.
“Lilah? Are you in here?”
They both poked their heads above the bed at the same time. Yvonne, Pilar, and Annie were standing in the doorway, their expressions turning instantly from concern to shock as soon as they saw Shane.
“What the fuck,” Annie blurted out.
Yvonne raised her eyebrows. “Are we interrupting something?”
“No,” the two of them said in unison, Shane reluctantly releasing her hand and getting to his feet. The other three women regarded him skeptically as he approached, stopping halfway between Lilah and the doorway.
“Someone was saying you left crying, and then you were gone for so long…we just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” Pilar said.
“Actually, we kind of thought you might be responsible for it,” Annie said pointedly to Shane. Lilah got to her feet, too, wobbly as a baby deer, perching on the side of the bed like she didn’t trust her legs to hold her.
“Not this time,” she said breezily. It was only when he looked back at Lilah’s flushed face that the implication settled over him, heavy and queasy: she’d cried over him before, and they all knew it.
“Looks like you’re in good hands now,” he said. “I should head back out there.”
Lilah nodded mutely. Her friends eyed him up as he passed, and he met each of their gazes in turn, confident, but not confrontational. They clustered around Lilah, but she was looking only at him until the moment he closed the door.