Page 13 of Free Agent

Of course that’s the picture they chose.

Despite me being seated directly beside Sierra, she wasn’t even in the shot. It was perfectly cropped so that it was just me and Tatum Wilder—him in full blown admiration mode, me with a big ass grin on my face that I knew was just a nervous response.

Still… I couldn’t help absorbing how happy I looked.

And how handsome Tatum was.

There at the game, I’d been trying not to look at him too hard. Now, I could look all I wanted.

No wonder I’d been so flustered.

The man was fine.

A fact that undoubtedly contributed the narrative being painted by this particular headline, and likely countless others -- GOLDDIGGER ALERT: EMBATTLED FIANCE OF FOOTBALL SUPERSTAR LUXURIATING IN ATTENTION FROM THE COMPETITION.

I knew this was going to happen.

I closed the app, not daring to look any further. There had already been entirely too much controversy for one day, today of all fuckin’ days, and I didn’t have it in me to accept another shred of negativity.

When I made it into my text thread with Sierra, it was clear she’d already seen the bullshit, and knew how it would hit me.

You look hot as fuck in that picture – S. Ward

Despite myself, I smiled at the compliment that wasn’t just coming from her. I had a half dozen texts from other friends too, including Shan, all on the same buoying “I see you were at the game being pretty” type of energy.

And then, there were the texts from Monty.

You looked good as fuck tonight. – Money Monty

Can’t even blame that nigga lol. – Money Monty

You not gon’ answer the phone? – Money Monty

I rolled my eyes and put him back in snooze mode.

Fuck off.

I tossed the phone down and moved to my vanity, hands already poised to remove my jewelry and start my process of getting unready.

But the mirror held my attention.

Actually, I did look hot as fuck.

Entirely too damned good to be in some major hurry to wash it all away and hang it back up in the closet.

I glanced at the Moment and Measures watch on my wrist—yet another expensive gift from Monty—to check the time before I sighed, realizing what I had just done. There was no way it was healthy for me to think of everything I owned in that manner, tallying every little thing in my life provided by him as some proof of… what?

Proof of what, Rori?

Obviously not fidelity, which I still couldn’t convince myself didn’t matter in the grand scheme of everything else.

And I was disgusted with myself for trying, for going against what I wanted, what Monty had promised by putting that ring on my finger.

I knew better.

But I couldn’t seem to just… let it go.

I was stuck there, constantly reminding myself of every little concession I’d made over the years, every gift, every excuse I’d accepted instead of really confronting behavior that honestly?