Page 25 of Free Agent

I was sick.

I couldn’t keep letting this happen, couldn’t keep going through this fucked up cycle.

“Hey…”

Shit.

Just that fast, I’d forgotten what I’d supposedly come to this room to do. I turned to find Tatum standing a few feet away, hand extended.

… handing me two key cards.

“I’m going to head to my room,” he said. “Order yourself some room service, charge a bunch of movies, whatever you want to do. It’s on me.”

“What?!” I moved toward him, but didn’t accept the keys. “I thought we were?—”

“You don’t want that, Rori,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Despite his best efforts, you love your fiancé. You’re not about to fuck?—”

“Take your pants off,” I insisted, dropping the contents of my hands to go for his waistband myself. “I said I was doing this, so… let’s get to it.”

I couldn’t even handle his belt or buttons because my hands were shaking too badly, so I gave up and took a step back, crossing my arms.

Indignant.

“Do it,” I insisted.

Tatum just looked at me, not doing anything about his belt or buttons either.

“What?!” I snapped, hating the way my voice cracked over the word. “Don’t look at me like that. And don’t… try to tell me this isn’t who I am,” I added, holding up a hand. “Because it is. It’s what I want. Monty fucks whoever he wants, whenever he wants, my feelings be damned. So what I want, is to fuck who I want for a change. Are you going to help me or not?”

He scratched his lip with his teeth, still staring at me like he was trying to figure something out. “How long have you been with him?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes, confused. “What? Why does that matter?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I…” I sighed, breaking eye contact. “As adults?” I hedged.

“Fuck the semantics, Rori. Answer the question.”

I didn’t want to answer the question.

Didn’t want to say it out loud.

I turned away, back to the window, so that I at least wouldn’t have to look him in the face as I offered what would, in different circumstances, would have been a proud fact. “Sixteen years,” I admitted, just above a whisper. “High school sweethearts. First loves. All that.”

That should be something to brag about.

Putting that kind of time in, with one person?

It was goals.

Should be, at least.

Instead, it made the whole thing even more pitiful, made me even angrier.

Damn near two decades, and this was what I deserved?

When Tatum wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me into him… I stopped holding the tears.

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