Page 20 of Bona Fide

“We’d love to talk more about you possibly helping us with a party we were thinking about having,” Amber voices. “We don’t have many ideas yet, but we’d love to see if you might have something.”

“I’m sure she’d love that,” Wade voices for me. “She loves challenges.” I dig my fingernails into my palms. He has the balls to speak for me like we’re a couple.

An item.

People with a past that I want to omit.

Brain cells that I want to set on fire.

Motherfucker, I’m about to kill you.

“Do you mind if I steal her away for a moment?” I open my mouth to politely tell him to fuck off but the girls practically shove me in his direction with their cheery “of course” and “absolutely”.

Wade shakes their hands again, thanking them for coming, before maneuvering me away to a moment that I’ve been avoiding like one of the excuses.

There isn’t shit he’s going to say to make this right. No amount of words or how prettily he says them is going to loosen the tightness in my chest.

I’m a mess.

I hate him more for that.

The rollercoaster ride of emotions that have spread through me over the course of the last three weeks has been nauseating. He has me back to smoking, not just weed but cigarettes, and I can feel myself seep back into my old self—cold, stubborn, and over it.

However, there are some added side effects that have been fucking with my arctic nature. Ones I’m not equipped to deal with. Like my moods and lack of rationality that has been thrashing me around.

Love.

I swear with the way my body reacts, that I fell in love with this fucker.

The soft graze of Wade’s fingertips along my spine, burning what feels like a hole through my skin.

He knows I won’t smack it away.

That my reputation is as much on the line as his.

My business is the only thing I have right now to keep my mind moving. The fact that I need to take care of Mama and Marty when he comes home is the fuel I use to keep me from stalling out into a lump of depression.

A few acknowledgments are sent in Wade’s direction as we make our way through the party. My elbows prickle to slam into his ribs, however, I purge the thoughts from my head—reluctantly.

He’s not my man, never was, never will be, and it’s time I make that perfectly clear.

Not only to him but my damn self.

I think I should start practicing it in the mirror. Maybe begin reciting it every morning so that hopefully one day it’ll stick in my head. That his appearance won’t make me want to run into his arms. That in one weak moment, I’ll cave and tell him that I want to hear his side.

The edge of the dance floor appears in my line of sight, and I halt, digging the pad of my heels into the tiled floors.

“Stop,” I seeth through my teeth for only him to hear. “There is no way—”

“You wouldn’t want to cause a scene, would you?” His voice drips with challenge because I just said—I will not risk my career for this ass clown.

And he knows that.

“Go fuck yourself, Governor. I’m not dancing with you. What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

“You need to leave me alone.”

---