Page 99 of Play Fake
I’m still angry at Dex, but I’m also working my way toward being forgiving. As long as he apologizes.
When Dex gets home, I don’t move from the couch. Instead, I wait for him to go first.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” he says.
“I don’t, either.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” It’s good enough for now. “I got you something.” I get up and grab the box of cookies, and I’m excited to tell him about my new friend.
He reaches for me and hauls me by the waist into him. “Thanks, Ains.” He drops a kiss to my lips.
It’s time to get Jack, and Dex drives, darting in and out of traffic as usual. I distract myself by talking about my day. “Speaking of the Nash family, I ran into Grayson today. His wife and I are basically best friends now.”
“Is that where the cookies came from?” he asks.
I nod.
“Best bakery in town,” he says.
We chat some more before we arrive at Asher’s, and I get to catch up again with Desi. She’s as sweet as Ava, and I let her know if she and Asher ever need a break for a night, Jake is welcome to stay with us.
That’stwolocal friends in one day. I’m riding a high as we get back into the car.
I just wish the high could last a little bit longer.
Jack is strapped in the back as we make our way to some steakhouse Dex likes, and he’s driving like a maniac.
“Can you slow down a little?” I ask.
He side-eyes me, and I shut my trap.
He glances in his rearview mirror, and he changes lanes again. And again. And again.
“Dex, what the hell are you doing?” I ask. “The baby is in the back.”
He looks in his mirror again just as the car in front of us slams on the brakes.
He swerves into the next lane, and I look out my window to see a car coming straight for us. I hear the screeching tires and brace for the impact of metal crushing metal, but the other car must stop in time because it never happens.
“Oh my God, Dex! Will you slow down? You could’ve gotten all three of us killed!” I’m yelling at him. Now the baby is crying, and this isn’t how I wanted this night to start.
“I thought I was being followed, okay?”
“Why would someone be following you?”
“Forget it, okay?” He swerves again, clearly learning nothing from what just happened.
“I want to get out of the car.”
“Stop it,” he says, rolling his eyes. Jack is still crying in the backseat.
“Slow the hell down! And who is following you?”
“The black car behind us. He’s changed lanes every time I have.”
“Why?” I demand again.
