Page 206 of The Last Good Man

Maybe he’s changed his mind.

This is the thing with hookups and relationships.

They’re never linear. There are ups and downs and rough patches you have to go through. It’s a learning process, and not everybody makes it in the end.

And we’ve officially hit our first rough patch.

It’s unnerving and puzzling, and I hate that we are here. And instead of losing my robe and lying down for him, inviting him to top me and fuck me raw, we have to deal withissues.

We've barely known each other for a few weeks, and we’re already frustrated and resentful. It’s too early in our timeline, and I doubt we’ll make it.

He tips his gaze down, a sad smile dangling from his lips.

“You seemed to have a problem at the restaurant today,” he says.

“I can say the exact same thing about you.”

Seemingly, our secret affair doesn’t work out as we had planned, as life has different plans for us.

We can’t just meet and have sex and not deal with the consequences of everything else.

It’s not up to us.

He pushes out a long exhale.

“I didn’t expect to see you there,” he says, evading my eyes.

“There as inat a nice restaurant having lunch with my mother?’I’m sorry for––”

He flicks his hand up, cutting me off.

“I’m not doing thepassive–aggressivegame. I didn’t say you had no business being there. I said I didn’t expect to see you there. I wasn’t blaming you for anything.”

I bite my lip to stay quiet.

“Things are difficult for us as they are…” he says silently, looking down again. “I didn’t want to talk to you about what I do for a living in the middle of a restaurant in Manhattan. It’s too early to have that conversation,” he says, raising his eyes. “And I don’t want to chat about it in a rush.”

His eyes meet mine while he goes on.

“Maybe we’ll never have that conversation. And you will remember me for who I am, not what I do for a living.”

My lip rolls under my teeth.

“Are you a criminal, Jax?”

He ponders his answer, his gaze threaded through mine as he slowly shakes his head.

“I can’t be criminally charged with anything if that’s what you mean.”

I, um…

I don’t know what to say.

“Do I live dangerously?” he murmurs. “Yes. I do,” he goes on. “Choosing a different way of life doesn’t always work, does it?” he says in the same quiet voice.

“Why can’t you do something different? And are you a mafia man?”

He doesn’t answer.

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