Page 192 of Bona Fide

Which, honestly, isn’t much right now because thoughts of Reagan, Lucas, and Phoebe bounce around in there. Three people I have to protect from Satan herself because once I drop her to the wolves for committing treason by attempting to find confidential information to feed to the Russians, I’ll only get to play the victim for an hour before she spills all my shit.

“You’re going to fight me over this?” Demi solicits with furrowed brows. “You really want to make this ugly?”

“Should I have my lawyers draw up the papers or do you want to do it to where I scratch half the shit out?”

She strides towards me. “We can do this easy, Wade. You walk off with your secrets, and I move on.”

“With?”

“No one important,” she conveys.

“What of your dreams of being Jackie-O? And our baby?” She scoffs at that, wrinkling her nose as though that was a real idea instead of her desperate attempt to keep me.

God, I can’t even believe she went through with the pregnancy with Daxton. Even though she’d have a nice little living baby to hold over Henry’s head, I remember her appearance was always her top priority. And, fuck, did I fall for that.

“You wanting another child with me was a lapse of judgment, a fool’s dream,” she chimes. “You’ll never want to give our marriage another shot.”

“Why not? My approval rating has been through the roof ever since you’ve been visiting schools and finger painting with the kids. The high school boys seem to love—”

“Your bitch of an assistant scheduled those for me,” she carps. “I never approved nor was asked to do those things.”

“Now, darling,” I coo. “It’s not just me that has to do their civic duty and make it appear as though you give a shit. If you wanna be Jackie-O, you gotta earn it.”

“I want out.”

“Too fucking bad. You should’ve fucked off with me a long time ago. When I begged you to let me go. So you rode on my coattails for almost a decade. Buckle up, buttercup, it’s going to be a long and bumpy ride.”

“Fuck you.” Her hands tighten into fists, and I point at them.

“If you’re going to punch me, make sure you leave a mark.” She lets out a loud, exasperated growl as she pins me with a glare.

“You were right,” she says, sounding like it was the most sour thing she’s ever tasted in her life. “I don’t fit in here. I wasn’t made to be First Lady. So just let me go, and we can part ways amicably.”

I cross my arms. “With half my shit, of course.”

Her eyes narrow. “Do you think this is a joke? I don’t love you.”

“Same.”

“We’re miserable together.”

I bow my head. “Absolutely.”

She throws her hands up in the air. “Then what are we doing? You obviously aren’t staying faithful to me. I’ve never been faithful to you, and we’re getting too old for these games.”

The corners of my lips quirk. Not only was I correct that she knew about Indie, but she’s desperate to get out—almost as much as I am. But she’s going to sit front and center, in front of America, and get stoned alive while I get to watch. Jackie-O over here isn’t going to get to run off to Russia or wherever the fuck she thinks she’s going unscathed.

“Car is ready,” I impart. “If you’re not in it within two minutes, you can find your own fucking ride, and I’ll let everyone know you didn’t want to come.” I round her and make my way for the door, but her hand reaches out to catch my forearm. Thankfully, I’m too quick to that trick and dodge it.

“You might want to think about all this, Wade,” Demi seethes. “It won’t turn out good for you. Trust me.”

“It’ll be fantastic for me,” I counter with a grin, pivoting on my heels to face her one more time. “I’ve been trying to get rid of you for most of my life, but I don’t owe you shit. You might have skeletons of mine, but I have all the demons from your closet.”

* * *

Demi shiftsnext to me for the hundredth time since we sat at our table at this fundraiser for underprivileged children and gun violence in schools. It was one of the very few events that I’ve been to this month that serves a purpose I can get behind. During this term, I want to do as much as I can for lower and middle-class families, to make their way of life simpler because I’m not running for a second.

Emmy doesn’t know it yet, surprisingly she hasn’t brought it up but only two or three times since I was sworn in, but I don’t think I’m mentally stable for more of this career.

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