Page 19 of Bona Fide

That’s my dress.

Wade nonchalantly pulls his arm from her clutches as he continues to speak, but she doesn’t stop her antics of trying to stay close to him. Touching his lower back as she laughs and holding her stomach as she tosses her head back.

My brain, however, doesn’t let the fact go. There’s no way in hell that bitch broke into my house and stole my fucking dress.

How do I know that, you ask? I actually modified the piece of shit when I bought it.

“What’s wrong?” Emmy presses before her small hand finds my forearm.

I think I’m going to throw up.

My stomach just dropped so hard as I analyze how beautiful of a couple they are.

That I’m out of my league here.

I guess I always have been with Wade, but his wife—yeah, that dumb hoe is a whole other ball game with her breaking and entering.

“Nothing,” I manage to say through my indisposition. “It’s just...hot in here, isn’t it?” I begin fanning myself, but I’m far from warm.

I’m cold.

My body just dropped a few degrees from how pointless this all was. I was beginning to fall in love with a man who wasn’t available to me at all.

“You’ve been running around,” she replies. “Do you want to grab some air?”

I shake my head. “No, no, I’m fine.”

Emmy loops her arm with mine. “Well, do you mind if I introduce you to a few people then? I think it’d be really cool for you to meet a few local business owners.” I bow my head and let her guide me away from the scene that plays awkwardly before me.

Introducing me to a few local ventures in the area is a nice break. I meet two women who are around my age that own an art gallery. They easily take my head out of my current chaos with their ideas of displaying random art pieces around the city to promote aspiring artists.

It’s not until a large hand hits my lower back that I’m dragged out of the first decent conversation I’ve had all night and thrown into the reality of where I am.

I’d know that hand anywhere.

It’s only been all over my body well over a dozen times, and my body immediately responds to it by the prickle of goosebumps that lines my skin.

“Good evening, ladies,” Wade addresses in his low octave, makes-you-want-to-drop-your-panties voice.

I despise that voice.

So much so that it takes everything and every fiber of my being to not flinch away from him.

“Governor,” Amber, one of the owners of the art gallery, extolls. She extends her hand and smiles. “It’s so nice to meet you, the party is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He returns her handshake. “You’re looking at the woman who designed and planned it.” Both pairs of eyes from the ladies standing in front of me bulge in shock.

“Are you serious?” Bianca, the second owner, quips. “This is fantastic.”

“Damn, you’re modest,” Amber states. “We’ve been gushing over this party all night and you haven’t said a word.”

“She’s beyond humble,” Wade chimes in. “Barely listens to a word you say practically.”

I step out of his touch. “It’s not a big deal. This is a normal—”

“It’s the governor’s ball,” Bianca quips with a smile. “This is one of the largest events of the year. Everyone looks forward to it.”

Stupid.

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