Page 8 of The Last Good Man

Shehas this uncanny ability tobecome your best friend for an hour and talk to you like she cares.

Unlike my real-life friends ormyfamily, she can give it to mestraight.

And she just did.

Although I don’t know if I can agree with everything she’s said. Even if it’s true, and I need a high–quality man as opposed to a high–value man… Who says it’s easier to find one?

At least, high-value men have pursued me.

What she’s really saying is that I need to look outside my circles to find a high-quality man.

But…Would they really want someone like me? And even if they would, how am I supposed to find them?

Going to a book club? Or maybe a real club and dance the night away, hoping to find someone like that?

I doubt it.

Start a hobby to meet new people?

That would probably work.

Now, what hobby?Pottery? Drawing? Taking up a musical instrument?

Or going for the sports hobbies?

Hiking,? Bowling? Scuba diving?

I’m getting exhausted just thinking about it.

In the end, it’s up to luck and fate. And fate has brought me Thomas Everett,who isa catch on paper, and Ellis Wilton, a closeted sociopath.

So, fate… Yeah, I have mixed feelings about that.

I could start a hobby, though. Even if I don’t find a man, I could at least focus my energy on something else.

Forget about this whole ‘high–value’ men and ‘high– quality’ men thingy that makes me break in hives.

Why does it have to be so complicated? It wasn’t for my parents.

And it wasn’t for Jenna, my younger sister, who adores her husband––her high school sweetheart––and rambunctious twins.

Did I even have a high school sweetheart?

I seriously mull over an answer, busy gathering my things––my scarlet bag andcaramel–colored gloves.

Tossing my phone into my purse. I notice the pack of cigarettes at the bottom.

Ignoring them, I shrug my brown raglan–sleeve coaton, grab my bag, and walk toward the exit.

Dr. Stenson accompanies me to the hallway repurposed into a waiting area.

“You know your way out,” she says, smiling before glancing around the space.

Cream walls outline a rectangular room with a teal plush couch, a glass–top table, a couple of chairs, and a water cooler.

I’m not in the habit of being nosy, yetfor some reason,I open my mouth.

“I thought I was your last client.”

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