Page 78 of The Influencer

“Uh, yeah. I am.” But I admit, I was expecting tears, not pushback. Never let it be said that Olivia isn’t strong-willed.

“Why?” she asks as if she’s totally unbothered by my statement. “Give me one reason that doesn’t have to do with sex.”

This is where I want to tread carefully. I’m not trying to break the woman. We’ve been together for two years, and I do care about her, enough not to want her to be traumatized and doubt herself while she moves on to someone new. Someone better suited to her. Someone who can appreciate her fiery spirit, her devout beliefs, and her loyalty.

The second I decided to suck Jade’s nipples, that person stopped being me.

For the first time, the guilt hits with full force. It comes out of nowhere, and my self-loathing surges with brutal strength. I haven’t hated myself this much since high school.

I should have ended things weeks ago. Months ago, even. Back when I was looking for engagement rings and realized with striking clarity that I didn’t want to marry her. But I didn’t end things. What I did was fake it. I strung her along. And then I kissed someone else. I fucked someone else. I started carrying on with someone else shamelessly enough that I did it when she and I were under the same roof at Gideon’s.

I gulp around the thickening in my throat. “I don’t want to marry you,” I say, my voice noticeably smaller, quieter.

“You’re in a mood, aren’t you?” She huffs. “Let me get out of these shoes, and we’ll talk this through. And calm down, Asher. You’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing. Maybe we need to get you back on medication.”

That was a low blow, even from her. I’d been prescribed an anti-depressant after Adam moved away, but after a few months and Olivia’s TLC, she’d encouraged me to wean off the pills. I’d felt totally dependent on her back then. I just wanted to feel normal again, and not so pathetic, and she helped with that. So much so that I’ve felt like I owed her for my life in a way.

But once I was off the meds, and my sex drive came back—well, that was when she turned to Jesus. She’d claimed she wanted us to start over, and it made sense to me. Building a bond with someone who wasn’t my brother—working on our relationship and moving in the direction of a lifetime partnership.

She made it feel so good for a while. Like cleansing—purifying. Someone loving me for me. But she didn’t want all of me. At least not until I was willing to commit all of my life to her.

I started to doubt whether she found me attractive, which was nothing new for me—I’ve always doubted that anyone could find me attractive. So, I’d turned to the gym. To cutting out sugar and carbs. To tattoos and piercings. Anything to make me look different—and then it stopped being about her because she hated the tattoos anyway, and she never knew what I was doing to my dick.

I was expressing my feelings through mutilating my body and discovering that I was no longer the man I’d been when I met her. I was daring her to leave. Either that or daring her to love me the way I needed. But she did neither.

“It isn’t nothing,” I growl, but she ignores me. She rolls her luggage into the bedroom, and moments later emerges in her fuzzy socks with her hair up in a bun. Like she’s settling in for the evening.

She plops down on the couch and gives me a look I recognize. It means sit your ass down.

My conditioning takes over, and I do what she wants.

“No one’s asking you to get married tomorrow, Asher. I mean—I would, as you know, but I understand for men these things sometimes take time. We’ve been through a lot, and that’s how I know you and I make a good match. Everyone thinks so. My family loves you, your family loves me?—”

“Adam doesn’t,” I manage to say.

“Adam is gay. I don’t care if he likes me or not. I don’t expect him to. He’s too self-involved to care about anything other than having a dick in his ass.”

I see red. Fury boils through me and temporarily renders me incapable of speech. It doesn’t matter, though, because she goes on. “He’s been lucky so far for a mortal sinner, but his luck will run out eventually. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that, by the way. After speaking with my mother and aunties, I can’t, in good conscience, go to his wedding. I know you have to, but if I had my way, you’d find a way to back out of it, too.”

“You—who the fuck are you?” She was not like this when we met. She was cool. Rebellious. Progressive for fuck’s sake. This is coming out of nowhere, and I admit, she’s got me on my heels.

She stares at me, exasperated. “I don’t hold your brother’s deviance against you. I just think maybe you could stand to pray about it a little.”

“I don’t pray, Liv. I’m not even Catholic.”

“But you will be once we get married.”

“We’re not getting married.”

She holds up a hand. “Asher. Stop. I understand you’re frustrated. It’s not easy for me either, you know? I have needs.”

I shut my eyes. What is happening? It occurs to me I’m going to have to be the one to leave. I thought she’d storm out, run back to her mom and San Diego, but that’s not what’s happening here. Either I haven’t been clear enough, or she’s deliberately fucking with me. Regardless, this can’t go on.

“I’ve been seeing someone else.”

That shuts her up. Her jaw drops and her hand covers her heart. “You what?”

“I’ve been fucking someone else.”

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