Page 179 of The Last Good Man

My hair is damp, some strands stuck to my neck.

I brush it all back and arrange it neatly so it doesn’t give me away.

The smell of sex clings to my skin, and that’s a problem.Despite using toilet paper to clean myself up, Istill smelllikehim.

“Fuck,” I say, looking around the room.

I find a small sample-sized lotion behind a cute basket of potpourri. That will do. I slather it over my arms and hands beforewalking out ofthe bathroom.

By the time I reach the main room, anticipating chaos, Jax and the beautiful brunette are gone.Some of the men in his entourage are still at the table, munching on their food.

Emile argues with someone on the phone, and the manager––I suspect it’s the manager since he signals Emile to look my way––approaches him and tells him I'm back.

“Where were you?” Emile asks, barely concealing his irritation.

My unpredictable behavior has pushed him over the edge. Honestly, I’m as surprised by his behavior as much as he is by mine.

I would’ve never guessed he was so invested in getting to know me better.

“I told you I didn’t feel well.”

Suspicion glints in his eyes as he removes his gaze from my face and pushes itin the direction ofthe bathroom.

“Where exactly were you? I checked the restroom.”

I resent his accusatory tone, andnormally, I would retort. But as much as I sympathize with him, I want us to end things as quickly as possible.

“I needed some fresh air,” I say dryly, hinting I no longer want to talk.

I don’t care how I get home at this point. Cab. Or no cab. Walking, perhaps? It’s all the same to me.

I approach the table, lift my blazer, and collect my bag before saying goodbye to the group and heading outside.

I meet Emile at the entrance.

He may be a player, but he’s not stupid.

He knows what’s afoot.

Holding the door for me, he speaks.“The car is outside, waiting for you.”

He no longer appears concerned with my well-being, which makes me think his behavior was only an act.

Live and learn.

We step outside, where cars and people block the front. Some climb in and move away, while others stroll to the entrance.

The cab is right there when I notice Jax, the brunette, and two other men chatting nearby.

I don’t understand the dynamic of his group and can’t tell why the woman is there. Is he taking her home? Is she trailing along? Or is she more than a friend?

My eyes go to him.

He is half-turned to the restaurant, and I’m not sure he’s noticed me.

“Are you going to be okay?” Emile asks, becomingobvious that I’m dragging my feet.

I take in a long breath.

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