Page 66 of Catfish

“Where is this coming from?” she presses, leaning closer to me. “Are you overthinking your parents and siblings coming to the fundraiser next week?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

I finally meet her stare. “I don’t want you to skip out on life because of this world.” Her brows knit together as she leans back in shock.

We don't talk about too much personal shit. I just know about hers because she mentions it here and there, but I don't ask.

Me, I don’t have personal shit. I just threw mine away because I can’t take risks.

“I’m not,” she retorts softly.

“You are—you don’t date.”

“Oh my God, again, who cares?”

“As much as I don’t give a shit about anyone else, Em, I care about you.”

And I do, she’s like the sister I do have but wish I hadn’t. I’d trade her for Emmy any day.

While Em is loyal, my sister is a two-timing bitch who deceived and used me. I thought she wanted to support me, to be there to help me grow into this role because I needed my family backing me—it was a shitload of responsibility. But she left me for pills and a fucking dime bag of cocaine the night I won the governor election.

I haven’t spoken to her since.

“If this is about Demi,” she alludes. “Then—”

“Don’t start making stupid assumptions,” I fume, letting my temper flare. “It has nothing to do—”

“Then you better start telling me what’s wrong.”

I can’t.

The beginning of my shitty morning was the reminder of what I did last night. And to make things worse, she didn’t give two fucks either way.

Never responded back.

Should’ve known, she didn’t need to pace around and wait for a man. Reagan probably had a ticket line ready and willing to fuck her at any given time.

Me, I was just someone to speak to. Someone to make a bet with over stupid baseball games and pass the time.

And for the fucking life of me, I have no damn clue why I’m so in my feelings about it.

Maybe it was because she was different, a spark of light and something that made me smile. I'm getting too lonely, desperate for someone to connect to. Reagan was an easy out, a person I didn't have to explain to anyone or wine and dine. She was also a convenience, something I latched on to, no matter how wrong it was, but she didn't ask for more. I wouldn't give it to her anyway, but I ended it for her own good, thinking of someone else besides myself and Emmy for once.

Everyone else could rot in hell for all I give a shit.

“Are the final preparations done for the fundraiser?” I ask, needing to get out of my own head.

Em clears her throat. “According to Viola, the woman you won’t let me fire, yes. Have you thought more about Reagan Shelton?”

“No.”

“Wade,” Em nags for the millionth time. “This will take everything to the next level.”

It sure as hell will.

“Viola will be just fine.” She’ll have to be because I’m not letting Reagan step foot in my damn space again.

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