Page 26 of The Last Good Man

He laughs again, quietly this time, while I swallow with more force to disperse the lump in my throat.

Thomas rounds the kitchen counter, replenishes his wine, brings his glass to his lips, and sips, looking at me intently as if I’m negotiating a hostage crisis.

I gesture to him that it’s nothing and everything is under control while he silently asks a question.

“Who is it?” Thomas murmurs, and the man at the other end of the phone line speaks again.

“I can hear him. Don’t make things more complicated than they are,” the stranger with striking eyes says with serious aggravation in his voice, and I feign a cough to cover his words while gesturing at Thomas to bring me more water, hoping he won’t hear him.

“We talked about this last night,” he continues. You’re wasting your time with Thomas. Besides, I kissed you, so no one touches your lips unless I give it a go.”

It’s my turn to chuckle, earning a lifted eyebrow and a curious look from Thomas.

“Here is your water,” he says as the man at the other end of the line stays silent.

Thomas studies me while I stare at him wide-eyed, not knowing what to say.

“You finish your conversation. I’ll be in the other room,” Thomas says politely, and I appreciate his discretion more than ever.

The tattooed man continues.

“Nowdrink your water and make up an excuse to go home. Or you’ll hear noises for as long as you’re there.”

He hangs up on me.

I stare at my phone in disbelief.

What is wrong with him?

I dodrink my water before putting the empty glass down and straightening out of my seat, more determined than ever to have sex tonight.

6

MELODY

I should’ve checked that phone number and found out who that man was. Nothing annoys me more than unreasonable people demanding stuff from me.

The thought percolates in my brain as I strut into the bedroom, eager to shed my dress and press my frame against Thomas’ muscles.

Soft music plays in the background, and the floor–length curtains are partly pulled to the side as the street and old trees fill my view.

The sheets are made of the finest quality cotton, pressed, and wrinkle-free.

I like Thomas more and more.

He exits the bathroom, smelling like musk and mint, no longer wearing his expensive tie.

His dress shirt is open across his chest, and a dusting of dark hair covers his pecs. Just howI envisioned.

He gives me a smile as I close the distance between us, and for the second time this evening, I wish I wore a different outfit, something less pretentious.

But like him, I wanted to make a good impression.

A simpler dress with a back zipper for quick access would’ve been a better option.

“Everything all right?” he asks.

I tilt my head in response, a questioning look on my face..

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