Page 96 of Billion Dollar Mistake

In the daylight it looks worse. The paint is discolored, and I have worn down tires. I’m in dire need of a new set.

He grumbles, grabbing my hand, “Let’s get out of this shithole.”

I smack his chest with my spare hand. “Don’t say that.”

“Why?” We leave through the gym door and walk the sidewalk to the parking lot.

“Someone will hear you,” I murmur.

“The guy at reception didn’t stop me when I walked in. His eyes were glued to his phone. Now when we left, he did the exact same thing.”

“The owners are really nice.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t. It doesn’t change the fact this place is crap.”

“This crap is all I can afford,” I say with light sarcasm. “I know you can have better but don’t insult what makes me happy.”

He cocks his head and I expect him to argue, but he just shakes his head.

We approach my car. “Here we are.”

He stills. His jaw twitching.

I roll my lips, preventing a giggle from his reaction. Yep. He still officially hates my car.

“It looks worse than the other night,” he deadpans.

“Yeah, well, it was dark the other night. But she’s been good to me. So don’t talk bad about it; otherwise, you’ll put a curse on it.”

“That would be a bad thing?” he mutters.

“Yes. I need this car.”

“I—"

“No!” I cut him off. “You’re not buying me a car. Don’t even think about it.”

“I have money and you're my girlfriend now.”

Wait, what?

My mind is spinning. We’re about to have that conversation.

“Am I?”

“Yes. Of course. That’s why I don’t want you driving this pile of shit.”

“I want a boyfriend not a sugar daddy. I have a job that pays well.”

He grits his teeth. He’s struggling to figure out how to win this fight. “Then why don’t you buy a new one?”

“I can’t,” I blurt.

He frowns. “Why can’t you?”

Shit. shit. shit.

How do I dig myself out of this hole?

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