Page 125 of The Last Good Man

“Here? Where exactly are you?”

“We’re in a club downtown, celebrating someone’s birthday. Wait a second. I need to pee.”

She takes care of her business while I slide into an armchair.Water runs in the background before we resume our conversation.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were coming too.”

“Why would I be there when you’re celebrating someone’s birthday? I don’t get it.”

“Oh, it’s not that. Thomas is at a table, waiting for someone, and I thought it was you.”

This is what I hate about this.

No matter how much you want or don’t want someone and how little they matter to you, this never feels right.

“It’s not me,” I say.”He’s not waiting for me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you two were still seeing each other.”

“Yeah. No… Apparently, we’re no longer seeing each other.”

Finding from her that he is waiting for someone else is not exactly ideal.

“Are you sure he’s waiting for a woman?” I ask.

“No, but I can go and check. Wait… He is dressed to the nines and has a cellophane-wrapped rose on the table.”

“Yes. He is waiting for a woman.”

Can I blame him?

No, I can’t.

And yes. I can.

Why couldn’t he just talk to me?

Because nobody likes telling it to your face.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say before she speaks again.

“She’s here,” she mutters. “Oh.”

“What?”

“She looks like a professional.”

“As in a banker?”

‘She’s not exactly what I’d call a banker if youget my drift. I can’t get close to them. It’s chaos over there.”

“You mean a hooker?”

“Something like that.”

I suck in a strained breath.

It makes sense. Of course it does. He takes care of his needs, even if it means paying someone.

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