Page 22 of The Last Good Man

Besides, there was no noise in front of Aretha’s building last night.

I swiftly ignore that crazy thought, yet my mind goes back to him, my interest in that car only growing.

“Is it common to hear this kind of crazy noise in this neighborhood? It seems like such a quiet street.”

He pivots and plates the salmon.

“The noise?” he asks, distracted.

“Outside,” I say quietly, hiding the lower part of my face behind the glass.

I take another drink, hoping to conceal my curiosity.

“Oh, the car noise?”

His interest in the topic inevitably plummets as he slides into his seat next to me, unfolds a linen napkin, and sets it on his lap.

He shifts slightly so he can eat and look at me.

“Eat.” He warningly points to my food with his fork. “It gets cold.”

The noise dies down, and we discuss a few professional topics before talking about personal things.

“How come you’ve never settled down?” I ask, finishing my food and drinking the last sip of wine.

“Would you like some more?” he asks, chewing on his last bit of food before running his napkin over his lips.

“No, thank you. A glass of water would do.”

He slides off his chair, makes a beeline for the fridge, and retrieves abottle of water.

“Don’t worry. I can use the same glass,” I say whenhegrabs a clean glass from the granite counter.

He fills up my glass, and I drink half of it.

“The food was delicious,” I say while he witnesses everything with a smileon his face.

“Thank you.”

His cheeks are flushed from the wine, and he seems more relaxed. Maybe it is because of the wine, but I find him curiously attractive after a few long months of celibate life.

And maybe tonight is the night.

“I can ask you the same thing,” he says, and I can’t recall what we were talking about.

He flicks his finger at me.

“How come you didn’t settle down?”

“Oh.”

I blush on cue.

“I was too busy with my career.”

He’s waiting for me to continue.

“And maybe I haven’t crossed paths with the right man. What about you?” I toss at him, eager to talk about him more than myself. “There must’ve been someone,” I say.

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