Page 24 of Fade With Me

Reggie’s lips curled into a sly smirk. “Sounds like Sal, all right. What did he do this time?” His voice softened, teasing, as if daring me to spill it.

“He’s being paranoid, thinking I’m hiding something,” I snapped, irritation making me word-vomit. “He’s convinced I’m manipulating everyone, and now he thinks I’m trying topull something overon him. Like, what even is that?” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “He says I can fool you, but not him.” I rolled my eyes, air-quoting with my fingers, the words bitter on my tongue.

I didn’t even know why I said all that. I don’t share anything with Reggie. I don’t tell him what I’m feeling, what’s going on in my head. So why, all of a sudden, did those words spill out? Maybe I was just so tired of pretending, so tired of keeping it all inside, so tired of holding back—even if it was to him. So tired of it all.

Reggie’s easygoing grin faded, his expression twisting into a furious scowl that darkened his entire countenance. “He actually said that to your face?” His voice dropped low, dangerous, his complexion reddening with anger.

I glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to jump out and yell, Gotcha! Since when did Reggie get so worked up on my behalf?

I stared at him, utterly perplexed by his reaction. “Y-yeah?” I stammered.

“Don’t listen to him,” he growled, rising abruptly from the couch and closing the distance between us. His presence towered over me, heavy and charged. “I’ll take care of it.”

His gray eyes locked onto mine, unyielding and too intense to look away from. His hand shot out, fingers brushing the cold metal of my wedding ring, making me flinch. The touch was slow, deliberate, possessive—like he was marking his territory, grounding me to him.

“Forget everything he said to you.”

He lifted my hand, his gaze fixed on the red ruby at its center. He rubbed his thumb over it, softly kissing the stone before letting my hand drop with finality.

He didn’t say another thing, just stormed out, leaving me frozen in place, the silence thick with the remnants of his words.

My mind raced, trying to process what had just happened. Was I in some alternate universe where Reggie had briefly turned into a decent human being?

I shook my head, forcing the ridiculous thought away. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We all knew Reggie wasn’t exactly built for kindness, and this sudden outburst of empathy felt completely out of character.

Unease curled in my stomach. Something wasn’t right. I had no idea what Reggie’s game was, but I was determined to figure it out.

nine

Before the mirror, I held up a simple yet elegant black dress, surrounded by a sea of discarded options. With only thirty minutes to spare, I knew I had to decide—fast—if I was going to make it to my dinner date with Zeke on time. Correction: dinner, not a date, I reminded myself sharply. We were just friends.

With a flick of my wrist, my hair tumbled down my back, curls catching the golden light like autumn leaves. A touch of serum smoothed the waves, leaving them polished andluminous.

Tonight called for something bolder. I swept on dramatic strokes of makeup, each brush blending into effortless perfection. A swipe of my signature red lipstick sealed the transformation, rich and unforgettable.

Slipping into scarlet stilettos, their velvety curves hugging my feet, I rose to my full height. Excitement hummed beneath my skin, a pulse of anticipation thrumming through me. Tonight, I was ready.

Grabbing my purse from the bed, I hurried downstairs. My heels clicked sharply on the steps as I descended into the foyer. A quick note for Reggie seemed prudent, just in case he returned home before I did. One could never be too cautious. I scribbled, “Out shopping, be back soon. Dinner’s in the crockpot,” then slapped the message on the fridge, deliberately omitting the true details. I wasn’t about to risk sparking his curiosity—or worse, his interference.

Giovanni’s was too far to walk, leaving me no choice but to drive. I slid behind the wheel of my weathered minivan, its faded blue body, mismatched hood, and rusty tailpipe scraping against the pavement like a reluctant sigh. The exterior was a patchwork of battle scars: chipped paint, dull chrome, and bald tires.

Inside, the previous owner’s makeshift repairs were obvious. Duct tape and safety pins held together the torn upholstery, the carpet was frayed, and the dashboard cracked.

Yet despite its flaws, the engine sputtered to life, its clattering rhythm a defiant declaration of survival. The knocking grew more insistent with every mile, a harsh reminder of the van’s age. The exhaust rasped with each turn, echoing down the street.

As I pulled into Giovanni’s parking lot, Zeke’s sleek black BMW gleamed under the lights, a polished stone among the sea of humble vehicles. I purposefully parked as far from him as possible, choosing a spot in the shadows on the opposite side of the lot.

When I slammed the minivan door behind me, the crash resonated in the quiet evening air. With purpose, I made my way toward the restaurant’s entrance, the neon sign overhead casting a seductive glow.

Just outside, Zeke stood waiting. His gaze found me instantly, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail.

“Wow, you’re…absolutely gorgeous,” he stammered, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “I mean, you always are, but tonight…you’re just…breathtaking.”

Watching him, usually so self-assured, fumble for words pulled a real smile from me. There was something strangely gratifying about seeing him thrown off. I thought I saw the faintest flush rise to his cheeks—but maybe it was just the uneven light playing tricks.

I closed the distance, slipping my arm through his and looking up at him with a teasing grin. “Thanks, you’re looking pretty handsome yourself.”

As we stepped into the vibrant restaurant, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses surrounding us, I glanced around at the crowd and asked, “Do you think we need a reservation? This place is packed.”

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