Page 61 of The Truth of Our Secrets

I don’t have time for this shit. Rich people have zero idea how the lower class lives and dies by making in-person payments. My face must give something away because he holds up his hands in surrender.

“Let me help.”

Fucking hell. My bank account cheers, my pride sulks, but the reality—nothing is ever free. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll figure it out myself.”

I turn to leave because there’s nothing else I can do. I’ll deposit the cash in my checking account and hope it registers before they withdraw the payment with the late fee. It’s ramen noodles and peanut butter for the rest of the month.

Someday I won’t have to track every single cent in my bank account. I shouldn’t have bought Madyson groceries. It put me over budget. But I’m a dumbass.

A dumbass with stars in his eyes that a successful couple would want me.

Jayce lets me pass him but steps up to the counter, taking out his credit card. It’s black. “Please put whatever he was going to pay on this card.”

“Of course, sir.” The demon from hell behind the counter smiles at him and bats her eyelashes.

“You can’t do that,” I protest. He’ll want something in return, and I can’t owe Jayce McKenna. There’s nothing I have that he could want.

“Here you go, sir.” She hands him back his card with a receipt he doesn’t look at. How fucking nice to have so much money that you don’t even look at what you’re paying.

Shit, I should make the fucker pay the entire balance just to teach him a lesson. Take that debt, motherfucker. See if that puts a dent in your wallet.

“It’s done.” Jayce smiles and reaches for me, but I storm out.

I can’t think straight. I should be grateful. I should say thank you. I should apologize for yelling at him and maybe he won’t hold it over my head.

But I can’t.

Slumping into a chair by the exit, I need a second to figure out how to pay Jayce back.

Jayce stands above me with his head tilted to the side like I’m a naughty puppy that he’s not sure what to do with. Wondering if he should punish me or give me a treat because I’m having a hard time. Decisions, decisions.

“Here.” I hand him my cash, but he steps back, refusing it.

“Why are you still here?” I can’t keep the anger out of my voice. Like my money isn’t good enough.

“I’m not leaving until I’m sure you’re okay.”

I stare at his very expensive shoes. What the fuck made me think I could date them? Two of them. She owns a successful gallery and I am half a paycheck away from being homeless even though my boss is letting me live in a room for free. That won’t last forever.

There’s no end in sight for my money problems. I’m going to die with this debt. The interest is killing my soul. And my bank account.

His hand does a pat-rub combo on my back that only accomplishes bunching up my shirt.

“Madyson is the one who’s good at comforting people.”

I snort. At least he understands his shortcomings. Some of us have to relearn them day after day.

“Do you even care how much you just paid? Does money mean that little to you?” I sneer. Fuck, I’m an asshole.

When I lift my head, his goddamn ocean-blue eyes are sympathetic. It’s hard to hold on to my anger when I’m staring at him.

“I’m going to pay you back. I’m not a charity case.” My voice has lost its bite and I sound pathetic.

“Perfect, I’ll have my accountant send you a bill in triplicate.” A smile tugs at his lips, but I don’t say anything. “That was a joke.” He clears his throat. “Not a funny one.”

“You and your wife need to stick to what you’re good at. Leave the jokes alone. A clown dies every time you bomb.”

Jayce barks out a laugh. “Touché.”

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