Page 66 of Bona Fide

? Judas — Lady Gaga ?

“Why don’tyou have any of those peanuts that I like?” Andy whines, making everything in my body cringe. “And what kind of popcorn is this? Light butter?! LIGHT!”

“Shut up, Andy,” I moan to myself, pulling a plain white tee over my head and sauntering out of my bedroom. “Some people have to watch how much food goes to their ass.”

“I thought we were having a fun night,” he retorts sourly. “Not a half-ass—” I smack his ass as I round my kitchen island.

“Stop complaining like a bitch and make the popcorn.” Andy hits me with an incredulous look like I just told him Santa wasn’t real and I was the Easter bunny.

“I’m ordering DoorDash,” he finally states, pulling his phone out of his gray sweatpants.

“Hell no—” I make a swipe for his phone across the counter but miss. “—I just bought all this especially for you.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t know me anymore, and that hurts.” I roll my eyes, taking a seat in one of my stools as I watch him scroll through his app. “How’s work?”

“Work.”

“How’s our man doing?”

My eyes turn into slits. “He’s not my—”

“You want to give him to me then because I googled him again and, damn, he’s fucking fine.”

I can’t argue that, but I still will.

“Chill out,” I reprimand. “I know you’re in your whoring stage right now but—”

“I met someone, hoe, your man is still safe.”

My brows ascend. “Really, who?” He continues scrolling on his phone, clearly not that interested in this dude because usually, if he is, his eyes light up like fireworks and he gets giddy as fuck.

“Some dude,” he deadpans.

I tap my fingertips along the countertop. “Sounds like it has potential.”

He glances up at me. “Chinese?”

“No.”

He rolls his eyes. “He does have potential...for a good fuck.”

“I’ll make sure to mention that in your wedding toast.”

“Please do,” he replies, still enraptured with his phone. “Pizza?”

“Sure,” I sigh. “You know what I like.” That gets him to smirk, but thankfully, he keeps his creative-ass mouth shut.

Sliding off my stool, I make my way to the family room and flick on the TV where Scandal taunts me under my “keep watching” lineup. Quickly, I stroll by it, looking for something light to where I don’t have to spend too much attention on a plot.

“We’re watching The Office,” Andy announces from behind me.

“How about we don’t and say we did,” I rebuke. “We’ve watched it a million times.”

“Never gets old.”

“We’re watching a baking show because if this party planning thing goes bust then we’ll have that to fall on.”

“Why would you think something like that?” He jumps over the back of the couch and plops down next to me, almost taking me out with his elbow. “Don’t let this wife thing make you stop doing what you love to do.”

---