Page 24 of The Last Good Man

I sigh and eventually get it off my chest.

“Yes. I didn’t. I had no room in my life for something like that. And then I started dating, and things got worse. So I began to look closely at why that happened and realized things had to make more sense.”

“You wanted to have someone good for you right from the start.”

He laughs, amused, and I likethisThomas.I get that hemight have a few secrets up his sleeve.

What he just said may betrue, but there are gaps in his story.

What if he’s telling me whathe thinksI want to hear?

What if he’s learned to enjoy the beginnings more than anything else? Getting to know someone, having fun with them, and ditching them for someone else?

What if I’m right?

“I didn’t expect to meet Mr. Right overnight, but I wanted to know if what I was doing wasworking.”

I smile and toss him a sultry look before getting busy with my drink.

A deceitful look slides over his face, hinting he’s gotgame, and he’s about to make his move.

Smiling, he presses his napkin to his mouth again, as if a morsel of food is stubbornly glued to his teeth, drops it on the counter, and takes my hand.

That’s my clue, and I’m half won onthe idea ofgetting to know him better, despite not even sharing a kiss, when a car engine roars outside like a bad omen.

We both snap our eyes in that direction.

Someone revs up their engine as if readying themselves to lurch forward in a street race.

I expect sirens wailing, lights flashing, and police cars engaging in pursuit at any moment.

Who is so crazy to race their cars on a narrow street in Manhattan?

Thomas breaks awayfrom me, heading to the window while I reflexively reach inside my bag and pull out my phone.

“Do you see anything unusual?” I ask, powering on my phone out of habit.

Maybe I’m missing something.

“No. Not really.Theymust be down the street.”

He slides the window open, and the smell of peeling tires wafts into his place.

“I’m sure someone has called the police already…” he mutters. “I can’t see much. The noise is just unbearable.”

Ding.

I tip my gaze to my phone.

My phone flashes a notification.

Thomas moves away from the window, looking for his phone as I read the message, flabbergasted.

The Impossible Man: It’s not nice to turn off your phone, babe.

My breaths stop flowing.

What?

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