Page 119 of Hurry Up And Wait

“Maybe he was engaged to her, but then he saw you and knew he couldn’t marry her.”

“He was on stage with her,” I snapped. “He took her hand!”

“Actually, he ran off stage. Maybe he realized what a horrible mistake it was and knew he couldn’t go through with it.”

“He had to know it would be broadcast. He didn’t even warn me!”

“Well, in all likelihood, you would have kicked him in the balls. Just like you were about to do a couple of weeks ago when he was here.”

“He has the nerve to try to tell me what to do,” I seethed. “He acted like he cared. He wanted me to have a bodyguard.” I shoved my fingers through my hair, thinking about just the other night when he said he had to see me. He snuck into the house and wrapped his body around mine. He acted like he could only get away for a few hours.

He wasn’t lying. He had to get back because he had a fiancée waiting for him and a rally to attend. He was playing me, trying to keep me around while he tried to figure out what to do with the woman he was engaged to.

“Was any of it real? Or was it all to keep me from finding out about his would-be bimbo?”

“Oh, she’s not a bimbo,” Riley said, staring at her phone. “The future Mrs. Kavanaugh is highly educated. Who has an art history degree?” she asked, looking up from her phone. “What do you even do with that? Are there symposiums? Do people go to lectures where they just listen to someone blather on about the history of art? Do they get graded on it when it’s over?”

“And he took her on stage with him. On stage! In front of the whole world!”

“Technically, not everyone in the world saw it. I highly doubt anyone in Africa cares about the senator. Or people in England. They have enough to deal with on that side of the pond.”

“And what was all that crap about the war? His father never wanted him to join the military.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know,” I snapped, pacing the kitchen. “His father wanted him to become a politician like him and marry a good woman and make little politician babies.”

“Well, he can do that with Art History Barbie,” Riley muttered.

“I can’t believe he did this to me,” I groaned. “Why am I so stupid? I didn’t even ask him if he was seeing anyone. I just assumed he would tell me the truth!”

“Did you ask?”

“No, but?—”

“Then, technically, he did tell you the truth. If you had asked if he had a fiancée and he said no, then he would be lying.”

“An omission of the truth is as good as a lie!”

“Sure, to us, but in politics, it’s completely different. And his father is definitely grooming him for a future like his.”

I shoved my fingers through the tangled mess of hair on my head and screamed under my breath in frustration. I felt so dirty and used. I had moved closer to be near a friend, and instead, I had ruined a future marriage. I stopped pacing and stared at Riley in horror.

“Oh my God. What happens when this gets out?”

“Why would it get out?”

I slapped my hands on the table, causing her to jump. “It always gets out. Someone’s going to dig up information on Kavanaugh andthey’re going to follow his life. He lives here, where I live! And then they’ll find out that we slept together and that I’m a homewrecker!”

She chuckled at me. “Okay, don’t give yourself too much credit. They’re not married yet.”

“I slept with her fiancé! I can’t believe I was so stupid! I thought—” I groaned, tossing myself back into the chair and banging my head on the table. I was an idiot. I couldn’t believe I had moved here and hadn’t bothered to find out a single thing about Kavanaugh before going to bed with him. I was a ho bag and a slut and fiancé-ruining temptress.

I stood suddenly. “I need to see IKE.”

“Hot IKE that saved your life?” she asked, shoving out of her chair.

“You’re not going with me.”