Page 49 of Bona Fide

Chase: Now you’re just being a tease.

Me: Merry Christmas, Yank *hearts*

Chase: Merry Christmas, my sexy Sox.

Me: Text me tomorrow?

Chase: Absolutely. First thing.

Chase: Good night.

Me: Night!

I smile as I toss the phone on the full-size mattress and turn the small flat-screen TV on. Catching the last scene of White Christmas, I feel relaxed and oddly content.

This year has been nothing short of chaotic. From continuing to build a brand to Mama’s up and down health issues, everything blurred into one big sprint.

Then I met a man who challenged and knocked me down a peg or two—not that I’d ever admit it out loud, but he did.

Wade Lockwood was a pest, someone that kept teasing and irritating me. It could be lack of sleep or that my brain cells have been fried from smoking too much weed in the past, but he’s everything that gets my body to hum and react like the whole thing is on fire.

My phone goes off a little while later, and I’m halfway through another Christmas movie, something off the Hallmark Channel. Picking it up, my heart pretty much recoils back into my spine from the message that awaits me.

Wade: Merry Christmas, Reagan. I miss you.

My nostrils flare on their own while my brain is computing which emotion to focus on. First, it’s anger, my fingers tighten over the phone because I just want him to leave me the fuck alone and let me deal with this—whatever the hell this was—in peace.

Second emotion that drowns me is sorrow.

I miss him too, wanting to deny that I do, but it was nice that someone thought of me more than just a fuck or someone they could control.

Third was acceptance. Embracing the fact that our “relationship” couldn’t go any further than it had.

And we all know how far it went.

Regardless of his not being married in his brain or them being separated, she’s here. And I think it has to do with him being so close to his dream that she wants to bank off of it. However, I’m not playing the mistress role or wanting to be involved in that sort of drama.

Demi will start some shit, I’ll cut her, and Mama will be alone while I go to jail. I’m not playing with that fucking snob.

I stare at his text message, wanting to answer but also not wanting to give him hope.

Wade and I are done.

No matter what he thinks he can do or say, I’m not feeding into this anymore. Yes, he is the most attractive man I’ve probably ever seen in my life, but that’s it.

There is no future. Only a small past that should’ve never been done in the first place.

New rule for the new year—don’t fuck your clients.

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