Page 17 of Living with Death

He smiles. “You have to share it with me.”

My eyes bulge. “Share it with you?”

“Precisely.”

“Why do you want to share your time with me?”

“Why not you?”

I turn to look at him. “Because there’s…” I shake my head, waving my hand. “Millions of other people. Way more interesting whom you could choose.”

He runs a hand over his mouth. “But I’m choosing you.”

I’m baffled. There’s no other way to describe my feelings.

“Darling, it’s simple. You have two choices. You can die or share your second chance at life with me.”

I frown. “Would we live together?”

“I’d prefer that.”

I laugh once. “Oh my God.” I’m dead on the ground, stuck in the In-Between, talking to Death about living with me. I take a breath, running my hand through my hair. I like living alone. I’ve never lived with a man, except my father, and I never cared for that.

He lifts his chin. “Would it be so bad sharing your life with me?”

“I don’t know you, so…” I hold my palms up. “And you don’t know me. Living with someone you don’t know, it’s not ideal.”

He shrugs his shoulders, lifting his hand. “Well, I guess I could choose someone else.”

I hold my hand up. “Wait.”

He smiles, stopping, his eyes glowing once more.

I’m not ready to die. I think back on everything in my life. What have I done?

I think about what Cook said about being proud of the life you lived at the end of it, and I can’t say that about my own.

I’ve worried about useless things. I’ve stayed in night after night. Sure, it’s what I wanted, but I thought I’d have plenty of time for everything I wished to do later.

That’s the thing. We always think we’ll have more time. I look down at my body, lying on the grass, hair soaking wet, head bleeding.

I inhale a shaky breath. “I’m only thirty-three and I’ve never flown in an airplane.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Can’t you fly?”

“That’s not the point.”

I lift a brow.

A crease forms between his.

“I’ve never been on a cruise or ridden on a train. I’ve only had sex twice in my life.”

He doesn’t respond to this, and I feel my cheeks redden. “Never mind. That’s not your business.”

His eyes flash. “Mabel…”

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