“I hope you didn’t actually pee yourself.”
He stares at me for several long beats. “No, I didn’t pee myself.” He stoops down to gather the mail, and I do the same, helping him.
“I can take it,” he holds out a hand.
I clutch it to my chest tighter. “Actually, I need to talk to you.”
He groans. “Ivy.”
“It’s just a couple of questions.” I lean closer and, in a conspiratorial whisper, say, “You probably don’t want to talk out here.” I wave at two of the neighbors on the sidewalk, staring at us like we’re a specimen beneath a microscope. “Those two are the biggest gossips in this town,” I say to Drew with my smile still pasted on.
He sighs. “Fine. But I plead the fifth about any Sebastian-related questions. Or Sebastian and you questions.”
“That’s fine.” I wave a hand dismissively, not at all concerned. I study behavioral psychology. And Drew is an easy target. I don’t have to ask specific questions to get what I want.
He shuffles from foot to foot before sighing and starting for the door. “Fine.Come in.”
A steamingmug of coffee sits in front of Drew, made by me. He’s much more relaxed and talkative. Of course, the pills I slipped inside may be responsible for that. The same low-dose anti-anxiety medication he’s been prescribed before. I just… expedited it.
It’s a line, technically. But lines are flexible when the alternative is losing Sebastian.
They won’t hurt him. I checked his medical information thoroughly before administering the pills. I like Drew too much to ever do anything malicious to him.
He’s spilling everything like a teenager writing in a diary, telling me way more than I ever wanted to know. Mostly stuff about his ex.
But when he mentions Sebastian’s name, I see an opportunity. “When did you notice a change in Sebastian’s behavior?”
Like a truth serum, Drew spills the info I want.
It’s exactly as I thought—the day after we fooled around.
He goes on, giving me tons of information about Sebastian’s behavior, schedule, and activities.
By the time I leave, I’ve already devised three plans and two backups to get this sorted out.
As I head inside my house, I shake my head.Poor Sebastian is just scared.
I can work with that.
After changingand fixing my hair, I message Thomas, my driver, to tell him I needto go shopping.
Of course, he’s happy to take me to the city.
He waits by the door while I grab my coat. He’s been with my family long enough that we have an unspoken routine.
“Same plan, Miss Ivy?” He asks as he opens the door of the renovated house that my father inherited from his grandfather. It’s familiar, comfortable, and best of all, there’s a back garden that borders the woods. The trail leads directly to Sebastian’s house, which is convenient.
Thomas follows me into the garage.
“Yes, please,” I say, sliding inside the luxury car. “Downtown.”
He nods and gets behind the wheel, then backs out of the garage.
I settle into the seat, relaxing as he makes the drive from the small town to the city.
It’s noisy with the hustle and bustle of people moving around, believing they’re anonymous. Tall buildings, pollution, and honking of horns disturb my peace. I don’t go into the city often. This is why.
But today, it’s part of my plan.
