Page 163 of The Last Good Man

We must’ve spent at least a half an hour outside.

I’m sure Emile has searched for me.

Oh… My phone.

Ipullto an abrupt stop andfreeze, not far from the door to the restroom, realizing my phone was in my clutch, and my bag sat with my drink on top of his car.

He left.

He fucking left.

Has he not seen them?

Would I be surprised?

The ending wasn’t that ceremonious.

The truth is, my head is spinning. So many things have happened these past minutes. So many walls have been torn down, andsomany absolute truths have been turned to dust.

Did I like what he did to me?

Absolutely loved it, and that scared me the most. I would have never thought I’d be enthralled by it.

The side of him he’d shown me left me breathless, unable to think or meander.

Will this work?

I’m not so sure, but I’m willing to give it a try.

When he was done, I pushed to my feet and tugged at my dress with no help from him. The only thing he did for me was handing me my blazer.

He gave me a wink before I put my jacket on and spun around to head this way.

He’s gone.

His car rumbled away while I slid the metal door open and entered the building.

But I still need to go back there and check.

Maybe they fell from his car.

Maybehe’s seen them and collected them. My phone and my bag.

Forget about my drink. That was my cover-up.

I’m so anxious about my bag that I can’t think of anything else. Weaving through groups of people like a mad woman, I reach the back of the building and the side door.

I push it open and rush to the spot where he was parked.

Nothing.

I find nothing.

I. Am. Fucked.

My phone and credit cards were in there. My driver's license.

Crushed, I turn around and enter the venue when an announcement is broadcasted over the speakers.

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