Page 5 of The Last Good Man

My gaze goes blank on thebowl of candywhile her stare burns holes into my face.

“That’s why I asked…” she murmurs.

“You want my honest opinion?”

“I want you to acknowledge what we both know. And then maybe you can make peace with what this is.”

2

MELODY

“Frankly, I don’t know what the problem is,” I say, my words crashing against the rain drawing rivers down the windows. “Aside from what I said before. And yes, yes…” I flick both hands up. “I know the definition of insanity, and I’m positively not doing that. I don’t think so,” I add softly. “I’m just sick of going through this crap over and over again.”

I even sound exhausted despite my perky appearance.

As if I haven’t spent long hours prancing around in my fashionable heels, talking to people, taking calls from overseas, and even having an interview with a local TV station.

None of that has drained me, yet my inexistent love life has given me headaches for months.

And now I’m back to square one, going through the motions with a new man, waiting for something bad to happen.

Things are fine, perfect, I might say.

A successful banker, Thomas Everett is everything I’d want. Ten years older, attractive, fit, driven, intelligent, mannered. And, um… Oh. Always dressed to the nines.

And yet, some cranky, nagging version of myself wiggles her eyebrowsat meagain with skepticism.

She can be such a bitch.

I move my focus to Aretha just as a knowing smile sprouts on he lips.

“Tell me about your new guy,” she says, picking up her notepad and pen.

A sigh of relief blooms on my lips.

“He’s great. Perfect.”

I roll my eyes, earning a quiet laugh from her.

I chuckle too.

What else is there to do?

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” I say, relaxed, before she nods and focuses on her herbal tea.

“Usually, people come here to complain about their picks.”

“Not me. Andheis good. Well, I don’t know much about his emotional intelligence. We haven’t gotten to that part. Other than that, he’s, um… A high-value man through and through with money, looks, and status. And he pursued me. You know me. I never throw myself at them.”

She listens attentively, her back straight, her fingers wrapped around her drink.

“Maybe I’m sending the wrong signals. How else can I explain these‘high value’men that ultimately turn to nothing?”

“Are you having fun?”

“With him?”

She tilts her head down.

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