Page 253 of The Last Good Man

He peels a hand away from my face and stares into my eyes.

“I thought we had established that,” he says, and my other hand goes to his cheek. “It’s just lunch. It’s nice. The food is good. The neighborhood… Well. You saw it. You’ll feel great. Okay?”

I look at him for afew more moments, my chest heavy with feelings.

“Yes. Okay. I can’t wait to meet them… I meanyour mother and Rylee.I know Noah. I hope they’re going to like me.”

“They will. I promise you that. Now, let's put the hourswe haveleft to good use.”

He runs his hand up my bare back while I push my breasts into his hard chest, trembling with anticipation and eager to feel him inside me again.

48

MELODY

Despite everything he said, I wish I could’ve gone home and changed.

My cocktail dress feelstoo uncomfortable when Jax brings his car to a stop in front of his mother’s house and invites me to climb out.

I wonder if he told her she’d have guests.

We enter the house, and he announces from the doorway that it’s us, and it all feels surreal.

Noises come from the kitchen––clanking pans, and pots, clinking silverware, running faucet water, and music playing in the background––while voices ping pong in a lively dialogue upstairs.

Jax takes my hand, and I’m deeply grateful for the calming effect he has on me.

The cadence of our footsteps interrupts the domestic noises. Someone turns off the water as he announces our presence again.

Patting her hands against a kitchen towel, his mother looms in the kitchen entryway while Noah and Rylee climbdownthe stairs.

Noah stops midway, and Rylee does the same, craning her neck to get a glimpse of us.

“Jax??” his mother says, a smile clinging to her lips. “You didn’t tell me we’d have guests…” she murmurs, and my eyes flick to him.

“You didn’t tell her?”

A playful smile blooms on his lips.

“Everybody chill,” he says before making the introductions.

Renata London is a woman with inquisitive eyes and a stoic expression on her face softened only by her warm smile.

“Melody Hill,” he says. “The woman I have talked to you about.”

He gives her a wink and judging by her baffled expression, she has no idea what he’s talking about.

I bet he’s never mentioned me before.

“The woman…” she murmurs. “Oh, the woman,” she adds, having an epiphany.

“Oh, she’s the one…”

She moves from one emotion to another in a blitz, offering me a handshake as I try to understand the secret meaning of her words.

Apparently, I've made a good impression on her, and as her eyes meet mine, I amalight with curiosity.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “We weren’t expecting guests.”

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