Page 107 of The Last Good Man

Things have been weird since I returned from Connecticut.

The trip was uneventful.

I drove back satisfied with the overall experience after leaving a generous tip to show my gratitude to the hostess.

Sunday evening was quiet, with no phone calls or text messages.

I used the opportunity to get ready for Monday and went to sleep early, but sleep eluded me.

I talked to Alice last night, yet our conversation was short because she had an early morning.

No sign from Thomas––I wasn’t surprised much––or Jax––I didn’t think I’d hear from him––but having his lighter in my purse without him trying to call me only cemented the idea that he is pissed.

Fantastic.

I could live in peace without hearing from Thomas Everett, but Jax London is a different story.

I’ve given him too much already, andthe fact that he is no longer interested in me after vehemently telling me I belonged to him feels horribly wrong.

So, the first thing I do after glancing in the mirror this morning and running a critical eye over my sleevelesswhite dress, fitted blue blazer, yellow scarf, and diamond earringsisto call Aretha’s office.

We have an understanding.

I don’t need to talk to her in person to confirm my second weekly session––I just need to tell her that I’m coming.

A text message would suffice, but I need to use my voice so I can get reacquainted with who I really am.

A woman who has her shit together.

The phone line rings a little hollow before I leave a voicemail message.

“Hi. Melody Hill here. I’ll see you tonight…” I pause for a second before I go on.“I might not be able to make it on Thursday. So… Anyway…” I stumble a little. “I hope my message finds you well. Uh… See you at seven. If for any reason you can’t accommodate me, call me. Or text me. Or call Mina.”

My jaw tenses.

Why am I droning on like that?

“Okay. Bye.”

Finally, I end the call and push out a long exhale.

What is wrong with me?

I toss my phone into my purse, lift my coffee to my lips, and sip the flavorful drink.

My lipstick remains intact––I check it in the mirror while brushing a strand of hair away from my face.

I’ve been a nervous wreck these past two days, as if the conversation with Jax London had thrown a wrench into my life plans.

I’m sure he didn’t want to make me feel insecure, but Iponderedhis words way too many times.

I love my life––I always have––yet now I see it as a trap. He was right about the men in my life. And there are other aspectstoo.

I’m locked in place.

I have money and recognition, but there are soul-sucking things in my life.

I like Dr. Aretha Stenson and appreciate her expertise, but needing someone in my life to show me the way because I can no longer make sense of who I am and what I want, or I have no time for introspection, or I’m just blind to too many things, annoys me to no end.

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