Page 52 of City of Love

“That’s fine with me,” Lydia says with a shrug, thankfully oblivious to the absurd faces Luc is still making.

I nod, and when we reach the bike I unlock it and Luc hops on, taking off into the night with a wink and a grin.

“All right,” Lydia says, swinging her gaze to me once Luc is gone. “Talk.”

I sigh, hoisting my bag further up over my shoulder as it starts to slip. “I’m a pickpocket,” I say, deciding to get straight to the point.

“A pickpocket,” Lydia says in a flat voice.

I nod, and I’m surprised to feel a trickle of shame work its way through me as Lydia looks at me. “There are ten of us. We’re street thieves, I guess you could say”—I rub the back of my neck uncomfortably as I present this label—“and we mainly target wealthy tourists. We pool our take and donate it to the local homeless shelter and food kitchen. We’re their biggest donors,” I say.

“Your ‘nonprofit organization’ is a pickpocketing ring?”

I nod.

Lydia stops in her tracks, pulling her hand from mine and shaking her head. Her shadow, stretched long in the light of a street lamp across from us, shakes its head too. “That,” she says slowly, “is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

The disappointment on her face causes something in me to fracture.

“You can’t juststealfrom people, Noel!” she says, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “It’s wrong! It’s great that you want to help these places, but there are other ways! And how do you know your targets are rich? Do you have their bank statements?” Her eyes are wide with incredulity, and she puts her hands on her hips.

I hesitate before saying, “We can generally tell—”

“That’s ridiculous,” she snaps, and she stomps her foot in anger—actuallystompsit—before going on. “Just because someonelooksrich doesn’t mean they are. And so what if they are?” She rolls her eyes now. “What if that rich old lady is putting her grandkids through college with that money? What if the rich yuppies are taking care of their ailing parents? Who made you God?”

Her opinion of me has never been lower than it is right now, and it makes me feel sick, my stomach rolling. Until this exact moment, I did not realize how highly I valued her opinion.

But I know now. And the look of disappointment and exasperation on her face is enough to make me want to hide my face in shame. I sigh. “I wanted to keep the shelter and the food bank from shutting down.”

“That’s noble and all, but you can’t wrong one person to do good for another. And you can’t make judgment calls like that! It’s irresponsible andwrong! And I know you’ve always been an ends-justify-the-means person, but life doesn’t work that way. You can’t just consider the net outcome of your actions. You have to consider thepeople, Noel. Life isn’t an equation you can balance,” she says.

She’s not saying anything I haven’t at least thought before, but somehow hearing it from her is like being hit in the head with a two-by-four. As I look at her, her beautiful face glowing yellow from the street lamp, her cheeks flushed with emotion, a rush of affection swells in me so powerfully that I have to take a steadying breath.

I step slowly toward her, giving her plenty of time to back away, before wrapping my arms around her and holding her tightly.

“You can’t hug my anger away,” she says, her arms sliding reluctantly around my waist.

“I know,” I say into her hair. I swallow. “Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me, though?” I find myself holding my breath as I wait for her answer.

“If I say no, will you stop all this Aladdin slash Robin Hood stuff?”

My lips quirk at that. “I’m stopping anyway. I only wanted to keep this going as long as we were doing more harm than good—which is a concept I understand could be a logical fallacy,” I add. “But your point about wealthy tourists is valid,” I admit, “and we’ll have closer eyes on us now anyway. Plus our funds are low. It’s too risky. I’m uncomfortable not having complete control over the situation.” Once again I’m hit with that anxiety—the worry that the Saints might still be holding a grudge.

Lydia gives a little snort. “You can’t control everything, Noel. I mean, by all means, quit all this thievery stuff; you should. But you should really try letting loose in some other, safer, morelegalareas of your life. It would be good for you. You’re tense and uptight and stressed. You need to have some spontaneous fun.”

I just grunt. That doesn’t sound like fun at all, but I don’t tell her this. Logically I know she’s right. “You didn’t answer my question,” I say instead.

She sighs. “I’ll always forgive you,” she says. “You’re one of my best friends. I just think you’ve been incredibly stupid, and you’re better than that.”

I press a kiss to the top of her head before saying, “You may be right.” I pause, then say, “Should we keep walking?”

“Oh,” Lydia says, gently pulling away from me and looking surprised. “I sort of forgot that we were going somewhere.”

I shake my head. “Where would you be without me?”

“Not traipsing through a cemetery after dark,” she grumbles.

I laugh softly. “True. But you’d miss me.”

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