Page 149 of Real's Love

"I know that's right, Granny," Real piped up.

I glared at him. He shrugged, grinning big as hell.

"Alma Annette Miller, quit putting on a show for these children and go on!" PawPaw scolded, smacking her gently on her butt.

"You heard what I said," she popped off before pulling me away.

"Corn dog and lemonade, too," I called out to Real as I obediently followed my grandmother.

As long as we'd been coming to the Pecan Festival's Carnival, Granny had made it a habit to share a ride with each one of us. She and I loved the Tilt-A-Whirl. We chatted about how big the Carnival had gotten as we ambled toward the old school ride. We only made it a few yards when I heard a distinctive voice say, "Youngin'."

My head snapped up. Wordlessly, I looked into the face of Tate Thibadeau. A jumbled mix of feelings swept through me suddenly as I stared at him standing there with a couple of assistants, a camerawoman, and a small entourage. All eyes were on me and the shit pissed me off.

"Don't call me that," I hissed.

The audacity of him!

"Love," Granny said softly. "You okay, baby?"

"Mm-hmm. Just somebody I used to think I knew." I glared up at Tate. "If you and your crew could let us by?—"

He whispered something to an assistant and handed off his tablet before stepping toward me.

"Young—Everly," he corrected himself as I grilled him. "Jesus, you're still so beautiful. Let me talk to you for a minute."

At one point, that request would've thrilled me. Now, I felt nothing but disdain.

"I know you! You running for lieutenant governor, huh?" Granny asked, eyeballing Tate.

That wide politician's grin spread across his face. My stomach churned in disgust.

"Yes, ma'am. We've been trying to get our message out at local events. I'm giving a speech in just a few minutes, but I'd like a moment of Everly's time."

He'd been groomed to look perfect. Crisp lineup. Impeccable complexion. Perfect smile. Clothes that were casual but obviously designer. He was gorgeous…

And I didn't give a damn.

"You have nothing to talk to me about, Mr. Thibadeau," I said, voice tight. "Granny, let's go."

She slid her arm out of mine and grabbed my hand, squeezing it. Tate ignored what I said, stepping closer after he instructed his crew to move back.

"Ev, please.”

I shook my head.

“Get away from me!”

“I fumbled you, Youngin'. I've regretted it ever since. I'm sorry. I'd like to see you," he said softly.

"Hmph! You barely divorced, according to the paper, and you talking 'bout seeing my grandbaby?"

Granny turned up her little nose. I just laughed. This nigga had obviously lost his mind.

"You seeing me now, unfortunately. I have no interest in seeing you further. Talking about you fumbled me. You dropped me and almost broke me. I trusted you and I loved you. That meant nothing to you then, just like you mean nothing to me now. Now, move!" I snapped.

I started to walk around him, my granny on my heels. He grabbed my arm and then my chin, tilting my head so our eyes met. He looked sincere, but I didn't give a fuck. He was too worried about appearances and opinions, a weakness I couldn’t deal with. It took me years to realize that but doing so had made him completely a turn off to me.

"C'mon Youngin' –"

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