♫ Welcome Home — Coheed and Cambria ♫
A promise is the most expensive thing in the world.
But he never promised trust or the truth. He never spilled his soul to me, nor did I ask. I gave him the respect I thought he deserved by not stalking his past and letting him tell me in his own time.
I just never expected this.
The entity or word of wife never was a fleeting thought in my mind when it came to Wade Lockwood. His broodish, standoff nature caused me to make the mistake of assuming that no other woman stayed around for long. That he was so invested in his career that his social life took a backseat.
He has a history—one that he made sure stayed off his Wikipedia page and that no one around him blurted out in my presence.
His loyal assistant, who openly expressed how much of a pain in the ass he was. She declared all his bad habits, and I can’t help but be pissed that she didn’t mention the simple—yet complicated to me—fact that Wade has a wife. One I’ve never seen before, a woman that has never graced herself at any of his events.
And as much as I want to know why—I don’t. Nor do I stick around to get my answers because I’m done.
The contract, the events he has coming up, taking Emmy’s annoying text messages—everything.
Every fucking thing.
It’s the karma I deserve. It hits me in the chest, a thick cloud that slows my movements as I stride through the hall filled with Wade’s guests for his surprise birthday party. I can’t get to the door fast enough.
At this moment, I feel more connected to Jed, feeling every twist and wrench forming in my gut. What I did to him was far worse compared to what just happened to me, but it hurts nonetheless.
Wade and I aren’t shit—plain and simple.
He was my boss. I was a quick fuck and a way to spend what little downtime he gets.
It’s more than okay actually because I don’t have to explain this to anyone, let alone a spouse. The governor can have fun with that shit, and I hope he chokes on every single one of his excuses.
Me, on the other hand, I can go home, go to bed, and move on. He just gave me the reality check I needed to confirm that myself and politicians—we don’t go together. I just got burned twice, and I’ve learned my lesson for good. My stubborn ass likes to put myself out on a ledge and play with danger. It makes my adrenaline pump addictively through my veins, and I love the rush.
Wade Lockwood was just that.
Even more so now because I have this outcome in the palm of my little hands, and I could fuck up his world and career faster than a whore on nickel night.
My body is suddenly spun around, and I’m met with a familiar black suit and tie. An acquainted chest that, about two hours ago, my fingers were trailing down. The well-known scent of his cologne, which is smooth with a light woodsy smell.
“Reagan,” he premises. “I promise you...it’s not what it looks like.”
Slowly, I bring my gaze to his neck, then to the stubble of his chin before hitting his ocean-blue eyes that glimmer in resentment and concern.
It doesn’t reach me.
Not where it should.
Right now, all I can comprehend is that I want to get into my car, blare the radio until my ears ring, and go home. I want that blunt that’s in the glove box of my car that I’ve been saving for a rainy day.
Not to hear the octave of Wade’s voice or the declaration that I just heard from his wife that he wants to try and justify to make me understand.
“We’re not together anymore,” he quickly continues. “She’s—” I’m on my heels again, making it to the short distance to the foyer of the hall.
The two sets of doors pledge a night full of darkness that I just want to disappear into for a while. It’s the only way I know how to cope with things that throw me off-kilter, and when I need to readjust things in my life.
Same hand and same shoulder, I’m whirled around again. But this time, my reaction isn’t just to stand there and stare at the man who broke the fortress I built around me to keep men and people like him out. Not to listen to the shit he thought I should listen to because he needed me to.
No, right now, I need to leave.
I need the night to hide in because my vulnerability is showing, and I don’t like how it pricks at my skin. How my heart is reacting to the way it’s coursing through my veins. Where it’s causing my breathing to be shallow and strained.
Wade Lockwood—he doesn’t exist to me anymore. He can’t. And in order to free myself from his clutches, I need to teach him who I really am in all my glorious, ghetto splendor.
My fist flies into his cheekbone, snapping his head to the side before I step back and pivot on my feet. I don’t wait for more words to fly or the reaction I’m going to be met with when he meets my gaze again.
Instead, I get my wish—I leave Wade Lockwood behind in the light.