Page 108 of Wicked Little Secret

“Oh. I see. You’ve replaced me for a younger one.” She holds out her hand to shake Nyssa’s. “Veronica Fairchild.Theron’s fiancée… ex-fiancée, I guess. Before he got cold feet and ditched me.”

I grit my teeth. “That’s not what happened, Veronica, and you know it.”

“One day we were engaged. The next day we weren’t, Theron.”

“One day my BMW was fine. The next day it was keyed.”

She lets out a dry laugh. “After all my time you wasted?—”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” says Nyssa, glancing between us. “It’s nice to meet you, Veronica. But Theron and I have to get going.”

Veronica’s brows tic up as she looks at me in disbelief. “Seriously? She looks like she’s barely legal to drink, Theron. This is a new low for you.”

“Nyssa’s right. We’ve got to get going.”

I grab her gloved hand and press onward, brushing past a shocked Veronica. It’s a bold move given she knows my family.

But what other choice do I have?

Nyssa and I trek the rest of the way down the next few blocks until we reach my car. There’s no sense in pretending anymore, at least for the night, when we’ve already been spotted.

I open the passenger door for her and look up to spot Veronica watching from the end of the block.

She shakes her head of chestnut waves and then launches herself into the surrounding crowd, effectively disappearing out of view.

We drive to Nyssa’s apartment, where we break open a bottle of wine and let passion run its course. We wind up on the floor next to her art supplies in themiddle of laughter as Peaches trots over and tries to join in.

“My sweet girl,” Nyssa says, scratching the cat behind the ears. “She feels needy.”

“I would too if some strange man started coming over and made my mother scream the way she has been.”

She laughs and reaches over to slap my thigh. “It’s not the mother’s fault if the strange man refuses to keep his hands to himself.”

“Debatable.”

Nyssa simply rolls her eyes. “If anything, the two of you have become besties. I’m still shocked she’s taken so well to you. She usually doesn’t like men.”

“I’m not most men.”

“Is that your humble way of saying you’re better?” She smirks as she rises to her feet and Peaches darts along with her toward the kitchen. I stay back, observing the surroundings of her apartment.

It’s a space I’ve been in many times, both consensually… and not so consensually before Nyssa and I started seeing each other. Her easel and art supplies are still set up by the large bay window in the living room. Perfect for sunlight opportunities when they arise during the day.

On the small table she uses for sculpting rests her work-in-progress. Currently, it resembles nothing more than a clay fist. Though, once she’s done, I’m sure the vision will become clearer.

“What are you working on?” I ask. “Another festival project?”

“Something like that.” The dry kibble chinks against the ceramic bowl as she pours Peaches more food and then adds in some wet salmon.

“Something like that,” I repeat, reaching out to gentlytouch the unfinished female torso sculpture of hers. The one with the torn open chest and gaping hole where a heart should go. “Otherwise code for mind your damn business.”

“No,” she says with a hint of defensiveness. “I just don’t like to talk about works-in-progress.”

“I’m sensing a theme.”

“How so?”

“Youwerea little reluctant to let me know about your revenge scheme.”

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