Page 116 of The Last Good Man

I swallow hard. Tell me about it, yet it worked out well last Thursday.

“Where were we?” she says, grabbing her notebook andherpen. “You were talking about how much you hate dating.”

Smiling, she rests her hands on top of her notepad.

“What made you say that?” she asks.

“First of all, I suck at it. And then, it’s all a game.”

“That it is,” she agrees quietly. “But it’s mostly because you’re not with the right guy.”

She continues.

“I don’t expect you to tell me you’ve worked on some of the things we discussed.”

I stare at her for a second.

“Oh. You mean finding a high-quality man?”

She nods.

“Yeah. No,” I murmur. “I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

She writes something down before focusing entirely on me.

“What about Thomas?”

“Yes… Thomas.”

My frustration is obvious as I give her a summary of what happened last Friday, leaving out the reason why things didn’t work out for us.

“That’s it?” she says.

“Yes.”

“Is that what has fueled your frustration?”

I also tell her about Emile contacting me again.

“Oh. How do you feel about Emile?”

She puts his name down while I give her my opinion on the Frenchman.

She lifts her gaze after writing down a few more words.

“You could’ve said no to him,” she murmurs. “What made you accept a meetup with him?”

I suck in a long breath, trying to hide my irritation.

“I’m still at that stage where I’m trying to get to know people.”

“Are you?”

She places her hands on top of the notepad.

“Aren’t I?” I toss back at her.

Smiling, she sets the notepad next to her and struggles with her pen, which keeps rolling to the edge of the couch.

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