“Probably, but it’s not going to happen on these legs. I think they’ve turned to water. I should probably put down a towel.”
“Then focus on something. You take off your jacket, while I make some tea.”
It sounded like a good plan, in her head. Then absolutely ridiculous, once it was out—like something a seventy-year-old grandmother would say.
And apparently he thought so too.
“I’m not sure that’s going to cut it,” he said, in this swinging sarcastic voice she recognized from a dozen movies. It was the one he used when he quipped just before blowing the bad guy away—only now it seemed kind of sad. Sad, and a little weary.
“So what would cut it?”
“Talking,” he said. “Talking would cut it.”
“You should probably know—it’s not my strongest suit.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then how come I’m enjoying this so much?”
“Because you’re still probably stoned,” she said, but when he patted the coffee table in front of him she found herself sitting down. It was almost impossible not to. Whether he was telling the truth about her conversational skills or not, she understood the sentiment. This was the best talk she’d had for months.
This was theonlytalk she’d had for months.
“Maybe. But I think you’re helping, dream girl.”
“Dream girl isn’t going to make you seem any less off your gourd.”
“You better tell me your name, then. Make things more real.”
She paused for just a moment. But it was a moment too long. It stank of a lie when she finally forced the fake name out, though really what choice did she have? The fake one was on everything now. She couldn’t say her real one and then have him see something else on the back of a random bill. And even if there was absolutely no chance that would happen...did she really want him to know?
She didn’t want themailmanto know.
Explaining to Holden Stark was just unthinkable.
“It’s Alice,” she said, then waited with bated breath.
He didn’t seem to find anything amiss, however.
“Down the rabbit hole, huh? Guess I really am in a dream world.”
“Yeah, yeah. Like I’ve never heard any of this before.”
She hoped he did not know that she’d never heard any of that before.
In her old life someone had once asked her where theThe Famous Fivewas, but that was the extent of her experience with name jokes. Thankfully, however, it was not the extent of his. He had loads of stuff to talk about, with a name like Holden.
“Hey—don’t feel bad. At least you’re not an angsty teenager,” he said, and after he had everything was fine. They didn’t have to discuss her fakery now.
They could just talk about his.
“But Holden’s not your real name though,” she said, confident in the answer.
No one was called Holden. Nobody named their son that.
Except for his weird mom, apparently.
