Page 187 of Catfish

“Perfectly fine.”

“Great.” I open my binder and pull out the first sheet. “This is the guest list, I don’t need it back until later this week. If there is anyone that you don’t want or have changed your mind about coming, just let me know, I’ll have security take care of it.”

I hand it over to him, and he skims it before placing it down. "I need you to add on my parents and siblings, please. Everything else should be fine, but I'll—"

“Are you sure?” Emmy objects. “Just because they show up to one of your debates and demand that you—”

“I’m sure.”

“But...you know what that—”

“I’m sure, Em,” he drones. “I can handle it, relax.” I can hear the defeat in his voice before Emmy sits back in her chair with a thump, looking all sorts of pissed off. I take it as my cue to continue on.

“This is the menu—” I had him over the next sheet of paper. “—just need you to finalize that as well.”

His brow flies up. “Didn’t I do this already?”

“Once, but—”

“Then why would I have to do it again?”

“Because she’s finalizing everything,” Emmy retorts. “It’s what good party planners do.”

Wade slides the papers I handed him across his desk back in my direction. “The only thing I need to change is adding my parents and siblings to the guest list. Other than that, we’re good.”

Emmy stands from her chair, clearly annoyed. “You’re really making a bad decision, Wade.”

“Leave it be, Em.” He cracks his laptop open again and dismisses her with his lack of attention.

“Then don’t come bitching to me when your mother—”

His now glare flicks back to his assistant. “I won’t. So if you’ll both excuse me, I have shit to do that’s more important than some mediocre ball that no one gives a fuck about.”

A mirthless chuckle hums passed my lips as I rise from my seat. ‘Ole boy isn’t going to talk to me like he’s enamored with me one minute then like I’m totally beneath him in the next. And on top of it—I didn’t seek out this job.

“I’ll come back for the papers, Emmy,” I state, striding for the door. “Make sure you wipe the asshole off them first.”

—

“I promise, Mama, it’ll be soon.”

“I hope so, baby, because this house is too big without you and Marty in it. Have you heard from him?”

I shake my head like she can see it, but I promised him that I wouldn't say anything. "No, not yet."

"I just don't understand why he can't tell us where he is," she frets, and I can see her pacing her kitchen now. "I've heard of military mothers knowing where their sons and daughters were stationed."

I stare at his room from the kitchen island, seeing the bronze comforter I bought for him still laying neatly over his queen-size bed. It feels like sometimes he doesn’t exist.

It's been three years since I've seen him, but not talking on a weekly or monthly basis makes it feel like he's disappeared.

“He might be on a special mission,” I offer because I’ve always thought that. There wasn’t anything Marty would keep from me unless his hands were tied. “But he’s safe, Mama, he always promises.”

“Because the most expensive thing in the world is a promise,” Mama pledges, copying the phrase Marty and I would say to each other all the time.

I smirk with a shrug. “Because they are.”

“Well, you just promised me a visit so you better pay up.”

---