Page 60 of Magnetic God

Dave nods, barely even looking my way as I leave. It says a lot about his character that he’d rather rub elbows with someone like Senator Ryans than to ask if I’m okay. If I wasn’t already done with him, I would be after tonight. This is definitely the last time I’m going to speak to him.

Renee grabs my hand, pulling me to the side.

“You okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“Just listening to Senator Ryans prove that all the stories in the press about him are true.”

“Ugh. Isn’t he running for the republican candidate spot against Grant Carter?”

“That’s the one. Turns out, Dave is just as bad.”

“Want me to toss them out?”

I think. “Yes, but discreetly.”

Because I don’t want there to be any bad press with my event, even if the offending parties are pieces of shit.

“On it.”

“Thanks. I’m going to hide out in my office for a bit and catch my breath. Maybe kick off these heels for a bit.”

We part ways.

I take three steps before someone else stops me. And then another. And another. By the time I get away from the crowds and head to the hallway where my office is, I’m fighting a panic attack. I haven’t had a panic attack in over five years, and I know it’s because of Brooks. I never had the chance to heal from the trauma he left behind. Should I have gone to counseling? Sure, but I wasn’t in the right headspace to hear hard truths at that point in my life. So, I healed on my own, which apparently wasn’t good enough since I’m running out of my event to go to my office to pull my crap together before I burst into tears.

In my office, I leave the light off and move to the window, looking out.

I hate Brooks, but only because I can’t love him. My stupid little heart can’t seem to get the message that he didn’t choose us. That even now, when he’s single, he doesn’t want me.

“Fucking idiot,” I mutter.

“Me? I agree.”

My damn heart misses a beat as I turn to face Brooks.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.”

“I disagree.”

“But you agree that you’re a fucking idiot?”

He moves toward me, slowly, which adds an element of sexiness since we’re in the dark. I shove the thought aside. No! I will not fall prey to his charm.

He says, “Yes.”

“Well, at least you can recognize it.”

“I’ve known for the past five years that I was an idiot, Angel.”

I shake my head. “No. We’re not doing this. Not at my party.”

“That’s fair, but we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing we need to talk about, Brooks, except about what pattern of China you want at your wedding dinner. Or what color of suit you want for your ceremony.”

“I want you, Angel, but I know we won’t be able to move on until we lay it all on the table.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

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