Page 173 of Menace in Vegas

She eyes me like a naughty child caught stealing cookies. “I’m older than you. I can do what I want.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Wrong angle, Allie.

I try again, softer. “You can streamGolden Girlson your TV. Want me to show you how?”

The sass vanishes instantly. She clasps her hands like I just handed her a winning lottery ticket. “I didn’t know you could do that here. I love my girls. I miss watching them.”

I follow her inside, avoiding direct eye contact with the flamboyant pink straw hat and the see-through tropical cover-up tossed over the chair.

She chatters nonstop. “You know, I’ve been told I’m horny like Blanche but quick-witted and sarcastic like Sophia.”

I think I just vomited in my mouth.

She hands me the remote, after pulling it from beneath a stack ofPlaygirl-adjacent magazines featuring shirtless men in cowboy hats.

I pretend I don’t see them. At all.

“Sophia’s fierce. Like me,” she says proudly.

“Yes, you are.”

I’m only half-listening.

My brain is still spinning with everything I want to say to Connor. Every way I plan to drag the truth out of him.

I give Gram a quick tutorial and queue up the show.

She sinks into her armchair, already humming the theme song and sipping her drink like life is perfect.

As soon as her eyes are glued to the screen, I slip out and head back to the bungalow I share with Connor.

* * *

He’s pacingthe kitchen when I walk in.

He stops when he sees me, tension radiating off him in waves.

I fold my arms. “Talk.”

He frowns. “Talk about what?”

“Don’t do that,” I snap. “Don’t play dumb. You’ve been acting weird for days. You’re tense. Paranoid. Barely letting me out of your sight. And today, you sent me off with Gram while you… what? Spy on tourists? Pretend this is still a honeymoon?”

Connor runs a hand through his hair. “Allie, I told you—I was planning a surprise?—”

“Bullshit,” I cut in. “Try again.”

He exhales slowly. “It’s nothing. Just… a bad feeling. I’m probably overthinking it.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re a lot of things, Connor Byrns, but you’re not paranoid without reason. Something’s going on. And I deserve to know what it is.”

He opens his mouth, probably to lie or deflect again, but I cut him off.

“I saw someone.”

His whole body goes rigid. “What?”

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