Page 61 of The Last Good Man

I set my coffee on top of the car,clickthe key fob,openthe trunkand slidemy suitcase in before shedding my coat and heading to the front.

I’m still mulling over that scenario,him and me together, as I grab my coffee and slip into the driver’s seat.

Before fastening my seat belt and turning the ignition on, I tuck my drink in the holder and my coat in the back seat while thinking about him a little longer.

My phone sits in a holder on the dashboard, and lounge music fills the space as I adjust my seat and mirrors and slowly back away.

It’s been a while since I went on a trip.

I remember how necessary it used to be to break my routine, get out of the city, and experience something different.

That hasn’t changed.

It’s just that work has taken over my life completely these past few years.

Maybe that’s why finding a man has become moreimportant.

Life changes in subtle ways, and so does my perspective on things.

It’s not as if work is no longer essential or demanding––it’s probably more challenging than ever.

It’s just that I’ve learned to manage it better, say no from time to time, and not be constantly fearful that I’m not doing enough.

I try to concentrate on the road and move away from Manhattan as quickly as possible, but getting out of the city ismore difficultthan I thought.

The music flowing from the speakers flies past my ears, and I forget about my coffee, mymind spinningimages of Jax London.

I refuse to give in to thinking about him, so I crank up the music, wrap my fingers around my coffee, and finally take a sip.

I’m still in the city when the lights turn red, and I stop at an intersection.

With my foot on the brakes, I take another sip of coffee and check the rearview mirror.

A car like Jax’s crawls down the street behind me, and I freeze. Is that him? No. It can’t behim.

What would be the odds of something like that, even if it was him?

In a city with over eight million people, we are on the same street at twelve-thirty on a Saturday afternoon.

Really?

I slide the coffee back into the holder while craning my neck and peering into the rearview mirror.

Just asI grow hopeful that I might get a glimpse of the driver, the car turns right and vanishes out of sight.

Another car moves closer, and the driver honks at me as the lights have already turned green, and I’m holding the line.

MELODY

Connecticut

The thought that Jax London was in that car stays with me all the way to my destination, despite the music, gourmet coffee, and chocolate bar I extract from my purse and munch on for most of my trip.

But once the country road leading to the inn takes me through clusters of trees looking modest now with their bare branches wrapped in tendrils of fog, calmness sets over me.

I turn off the music, lower the window, and take in the silent beauty stretching before me.

Before long the historical buildingentersmy line of sight.

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