Page 10 of The Bitter Truth

Fortunately, thunder rattles the sky, taking the attention away from him. He walks past Jim and Heather, his hand pressed to the small of Jo’s back, but not without looking back at Eden. She’s standing a few feet away from the crowd, looking right at him the same way she was during his speech.

Not blinking.

Not smiling.

Just staring, only at him.

Regardless of the heat, or the humidity that’s well on its way from the moisture accumulating in the air, a chill slides down Dominic’s spine.

He snatches his eyes away, giving himself a mental reminder to get that box from Jo when she’s not looking and toss that shit.

NINE

JOLENE

I sit at a table of the Fox Trot, a glass of wine in hand and my focus on Dominic as he makes his rounds, thanking his team for their persistence and dedication. Jim has somehow swindled us into attending an after-rally party in a private bar.

I should be up with my husband, but I’m tired and partially ashamed. After the rally, I shoveled the croissant from Daphne into my mouth and can still feel it sitting in my gut like a brick. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was like a beast had taken over me, or perhaps I was angry at my husband because I saw him flirting with a woman in the crowd after everyone left.

Look, I get it. My husband is state governor—and one of the youngest to boot—so the need to charm and make a person smile comes with his position. He must sway the crowd, make them smile, get them on his side so he can count on their vote. But there’s a difference between being professionally charming and downright flirtatious. This woman in the crowd, she was beautiful with coiled hair and umber skin. A journalist. She was Nia Hall. After she’d asked him a few questions, he leaned into her too closely and she giggled. It was disgusting and I watched it all from a distance. Melissa cut her eyes at me at one point as she stood behind Dominic, and I had to look away. No way did I want our assistant’s pity. I searched for Samuel Sanchez, the state’s lieutenant governor, hoping to get another laugh or two with him, but he’d taken off. He never stayed at the rallies for long.

So, what did I do while my husband was flirting? I stormed to my BMW and sat in the driver’s seat. I tossed the box of tea from that woman in the crowd onto the car floor, breathing hard through my nostrils. I smelled the chocolate wafting in the air and though I tried ignoring it, it was suddenly all I could think about. The flaky, golden crust. The drizzle of white and dark chocolate. The thick slabs inside that were slightly oozing out the corners. Just one bite won’t hurt.

I stared at the box, then snatched it up while sitting in the parking lot, watching the crowd disperse. I quickly opened it and crammed half the croissant into my mouth. Somehow the croissant was still warm, possibly from sitting in the heat of the car, so a dribble of the gooey chocolate landed on the front of my shirt. I didn’t realize this until after I’d devoured the whole thing and sat in shame with crumbs on my lap and the corner of my mouth. I glanced down when my phone buzzed with a text and spotted that dark, ugly spot.

Good thing I brought extra clothes with me. I stripped out of the shirt after wiping the chocolate stain with a loose napkin, then grabbed the mini duffel bag in the backseat, plucking out an ivory shirt. The color of the shirt was close enough to the original white. Dominic wasn’t going to notice the difference.

I checked my phone after cleaning up and there was a text from Jim:

Dominic is riding with security to Fox Trot.

Don’t be mad at him. My idea. See you there?

“Oh, fuck you, Jim,” I grumbled, then I started the car and drove away from the rally. Of course, he’d have his campaign manager do the dirty work. I bet Dominic wasn’t even going to tell me, but Jim took it upon himself to do so. Jim Pilton knows how much I hate going out to drink with Dominic. He’s been in the midst of one of our arguments. Dominic would drink too much, I’d want to take him home, but he’d get angry and tell me to leave him alone.

Now, I’m sitting here, a tad grumpy and slightly buzzed, stewing about the croissant and my absent-ass husband.

“Another?” a peppy voice asks beside me. I turn my head, spotting the waitress, a young twenty-something with porcelain skin, freckles, blonde hair, and blue eyes. She gestures to the empty glass in front of me.

I nod. “Please. But can you make it a whiskey this time? Top shelf and neat.”

She bobs her head, taking away my empty glass and returning minutes later with a new crystal glass two fingers deep with amber liquid. I pick up the drink, swiveling my eyes to Dominic who is chatting with Melissa and Jim.

I shift in my seat just as Dominic flips his gaze on me, then excuses himself from Jim and Melissa to walk my way.

“Great,” I mumble. He pulls out the chair on the opposite side of my table and sits with a drink in hand. Most likely Jim Beam. I don’t understand why he loves it so much. It’s a college drink he and his frat boys drank religiously.

“You know you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Dominic says, setting his glass down on the dark oak table.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Get the wife to leave so you can do all the flirting you want?” I glanced at Staci, one of our volunteers. He’s been eyeing her lately too.

“Jo, come on. Today was a good day. Didn’t you see the news? We went up two percent in the poll projections.” He reaches across the table, placing his hand on mine. “We should be happy, not moping.”

“I’m not moping,” I counter, slowly pulling my hand away. What I really want to do is snatch it, but people are watching. They’re always watching. I lean forward and hiss the words, “I saw you flirting with that journalist after the rally.”

“Good Lord, Jo.” He says the words through his teeth but maintains a poker face. “Look, if you’re going to act like that tonight, I’d rather us go home right now.”

“Right. Let’s do that,” I snap, then pick up my drink and guzzle down the rest. Dominic glares at me, picks his drink up as well, and finishes it off.

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