Page 27 of Sugar Baby Mine

Now she’s giving me thelook, the one that makes me want to sink into the couch and bury myself beneath the cushions to escape. Surely, I could make a break for it. Slip past her and those talons she calls nails before they catch me and drag me back for the interrogation that’s about to occur.

“Emme.”

I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. A sigh breaks my lips, and I slouch down while she picks up my arm and waves it around like a limp noodle, jostling me.

“Tell me right fucking now.”

“Rude. You didn’t even say please.”

“Pleasetell me right fucking now,” she says with so much saccharine that I feel my teeth ache.

I yank my arm back and roll my eyes. “Listen, we had a good time at dinner. It was easy conversation once we got going. He’s just…more than what I expected.” I kick her knee with the heel of my foot as she looms over me. “You didn’t say he was so fucking hot. The man’s a walking wet dream.”

Cora tosses her head back and giggles, fingers wrapping astrand of hair around her finger and curling it. “I said he was a DILF.”

“Well, yourDILFasked—no,toldme—to take my panties off at the dinner table in the middle of the restaurant and hand them over. I did, by the way. Then Imayhave dry humped him in his car and left him high and dry after he made me come.”

Her jaw unhinges, and she reaches out a hand and smacks my leg. “You didnot. Oh my God. Who are you, and what did you do with my cousin?”

To be honest, I’m wondering the same thing.

I feel like an imposter in my skin. I glance over at the table where my purse sits like there isn’t six hundred dollars cash inside. The thing is, it’s not even the money that made me bold—if anything, it’s holding me back.

“I don’t know, Cora. But I kind of liked myself when I was with him. It didn’t feel like I was pretending.”

Something flickers in her gaze, but I can’t place the emotion before it slides from her face, like it was never there.

“If that’s what you want, then that’s good,” she says, her eyes softening from the hard edge they took on. “I’m glad you’re seeing him again, then. Just see where it goes from here.”

I nod. “I’m giving it a chance. And at least I’m going to be able to pay my half of the rent now—and I’m going to pay you back the last couple months’ worth, too.”

“Not necessary—”

“Yes,” I interrupt her with a pointed glare. “It is. You’ll take the money with a smile if you’re really proud of me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, if you’re going to be so insistent. But wait a little while and treat yourself first. You deserve it, you know.”

“Sure.” Though I think Cora can see right through my tight smile.

“Speaking of—we need some groceries. Do you want to come tothe store with me?”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you. I desperately need some more gummy bears.” Plus, you know, other food,I guess. Anything to distract myself sounds good at this point. Otherwise, I might just go back to sleep or pick off all the brand new gel polish from my fingernails while I think about tomorrow.

“Perfe—” she trills, and I freeze at the same time as her.

Cold dread seeps through my pores, filling my gut like a heavy weight ready to drag me to the floor. My hands tremble as I move to slide them flat under my thighs so I don’t curl my hands into fists. Even after all this time, a single word can bring me close to panic. It’s something I still haven’t managed to conquer, even with the time away from my parents.

“I’m sorry,” Cora hedges, concern marring her brow. “It just slipped out.”

I shake my head. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I need to get over it already.”

“I don’t know if it’s just that easy toget over it, Emme. I know you’re doing a lot better, I can see it every day—but it’s still okay to not be okay. I just want you to know that.”

And I do. I think.

My gaze slides away from Cora to the floor, because sometimes it hurts that she’s so supportive, that she understands. Which doesn’t make any rational sense; I’m all too aware of that. There’s just something that pulls in my chest, a tug in opposite directions that’s hard to overcome. I want to leave it in the past, but years of being berated by my parents for not being good enough—for not being theirperfectdaughter like my sister—has deeply taken root. I’m still digging my way out, thorns along the way.

“I know,” I say with a sigh, looking back up. “I’m trying. I can feel their influence fading, it’s just a trauma response at this point.”

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