Page 95 of The Last Good Man

Turningmyback to the window, I shed my robe, sigh quietly, and slide under the covers.

“Still mad with me?” he asks before putting his cigarette out.

“No… It’s about the cigarettes.”

“I’ll talk to Olivia.”

“It’s not only that. I quit smoking months ago. I’m only carrying a pack with me to quench that thirst. You know the story,” I add, irate.

He tilts his eyes to me.

“I’m not supposed to smoke,” I say, pulling the covers up to my chin as if a blizzard swirls around the room.

“You’re blaming it on me?”

“No. It’s my fault. It has nothing to do with you.”

“So you’re still mad.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t need to.”

A few moments pass.

“Why are you so hard on yourself?” he asks.

“Aren’t you?”

“Um, no?”

“You ended up in jail because you couldn’t talk your problem out with your father. Isn’t that being hard on yourself? Putting you through all that crap to prove a point?”

A mask slides over his face, and he no longer talks.

I want to take my words back, but it’s too late.

I don’t know what the real story behind his incarceration is, and I have just blabbered for no reason, showing him how inconsiderate I can be.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say something hurtful.”

His eyes seem to come to life again, and I notice a quiet appreciation for being an adult and admitting that I’ve made a mistake.

Maybe that’s what he’s looking for. A different kind of interaction with a woman. And all along, I thought he was attracted to me.

For a secondthere, I wished I couldgo backto my boring life, talk my therapist’s ear off, and continue making lists and searching for my man.

The more I think about Jax, the more I realize how important it is to solve my problem and find that man.

I want my parents’ life. I’m probably one of the few people I know who can say that, but I really do.

I want to decorate my house someplace outside Manhattan, throw parties for my family and friends, and bring kids into the world so they can grow up with my sister’s kids.

That’s the man I’m looking for, and being here with Jax doesn’t get me closer to my goal.

Disheartened, I turn my back to him and stare at the wall.

Besides the log fire crackling, there is no sound in the room, as if we’re notevenbreathing.

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