Page 29 of His Wicked Revenge

That information piqued my interest since they had only been talking about her son and the upcoming wedding. Two topics I could care less about. But when they began discussing Leo, they had my full attention.

After that dinner, I inserted myself into Chloe’s life. She had been on a break from work, visiting the local coffee shop for her daily pick-me-up. I casually bumped into her as she left, her coffee dropping from her hand.

I apologized profusely, stating how horrible I felt that I wasn’t watching where I was going. She kept telling me it was alright, that it wasn’t a big deal. Even after that, I offered her a new coffee, which she accepted.

We began talking, and I played the part perfectly so that she would like me and for us to get along. It wasn’t long until she put my number in her phone and asked if I wanted to grab lunch someday.

Since that incident six months ago, we have become great friends.

While waiting for Chloe to show up for our lunch date today, I wonder how hard it would be to snatch her phone and steal Leo’s number. It shouldn’t be too hard.

Shit, I could most likely ask Chloe for Leo’s number, and she would gladly hand it over.

I slide out my phone, which is not the burner Slater provided, and open my contacts. I only have a few names on the list.

Lance, the stoner from my escape, wanted me to reach out if I ever wanted to meet up. Francesca, who I don’t plan on speaking to ever again, even if she blows up my phone occasionally, but I felt like I should add her to the list to make it seem like I have friends. In case someone takes my phone.

Slater is on there, but he rarely calls me on my personal. Sometimes, he forgets which number is which, though.

Then I have Chloe’s number, of course, and one other.

Stephanie’s name stares back at me on the screen. I’m not sure why I added my sister’s contact information to my phone. Do I plan on calling her? I don’t know. Maybe I only have her in there for the same reason I put Francesca’s in: to fill up the phone.

I wonder, though, if I were to call Stephanie, what would she say? Hell, what would I say? The idea of calling her has been festering in the back of my mind, but I always put it off. If I were to contact her, she would most likely get me sent back to the asylum.

And I am not going back there.

As I stare a hole into my sister’s name, a different image inserts itself into my mind.

The Polaroid photo I found in my apartment.

Someone had slid it under my door late at night. When I saw it and picked the photo up, my entire body froze. I stared at the image of me looking out of my apartment window, suddenly not feeling safe in my own home.

I hear the sound of footsteps growing louder as they approach. My eyes lift from my phone, clearing my mind of the issue I’m currently dealing with, and I find Chloe offering me an apologetic smile before saying, “I’m late. I’m sorry!”

“It’s not a problem,” I respond with a smile, locking my phone. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” Chloe hangs her purse on the back of the chair before sitting. “The doctor’s appointment ran longer than expected.”

My eyes drop to her growing stomach, concern lighting my gaze. “Is the baby okay?”

I may not like children or people, but I have grown to be okay with the presence of Chloe. And I may be a crazy lady, but I don’t want anything to happen to her or the baby. That would be terrible.

“Oh, yeah! Everything with the baby is okay!” She lets out a sigh of relief and opens the menu. “The doctors just wanted to do a couple of extra scans to make sure my baby girl is doing well. She’s growing like a weed!”

“That’s good,” I relax back in my chair. “Have you thought of any names yet?”

She rests the menu halfway on the edge of the table, the bottom of the plastic hitting her lap. With a nod, Chloe picks up the water glass and takes a generous gulp.

“Myles and I have talked about it. We aren’t set on a first name, but the middle name will be Jennifer. After my mother.”

My heart twists in my chest at the reminder of the woman she lost. Mainly the memories of when Leo found out their mother was sick. He was a mess—heartbroken.

“I love that.”

“Me too. I haven’t told Leo yet, but I think he will be happy about it.” Her soft smile widens as her eyes drop to the menu again. “So… you two had a good time at the party?”

I bite my lip, playing the shy role. “Yeah. He was nice.”