Page 63 of Wicked Fortune

“Sounds perfect,” I say, in a voice that’s more chipper than I feel. I do think Lila deserves to know. That doesn’t mean I’m entirely certain it’s going to be all hugs and puppies and congratulations once Matthew lays it out.

But I’ll worry about that tomorrow. In the meantime, there’s something thrilling about sneaking kisses in his office when no one’s looking.

And something even more thrilling about going home with him and sharing his bed that night.

He wakes me Thursday with a kiss, and when my eyes flutter open, my heart does a little flip-flop. Not only am I looking at an exceptional face with a radiant smile, but I’m in the bed of a man I’ve fallen for fast and hard.

Although maybe it’s not that fast when I think about all the years I’ve watched and wanted, never believing I could ever have him.

The real miracle is that he’s fallen just as hard for me.

“I’ve got Lila duty,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and brushing my hair off my face.

My stomach flutters. Today is the day he’s telling her. “Call me after you talk,” I say.

He nods. “I will. But don’t worry. We’re all adults. It will be fine.”

I nod.

“Want me to drop you at your house on the way? Or do you want to lounge in bed a little longer?”

“Lounge,” I say. “Who knows when I’ll have another opportunity to ransack your house and learn all your secrets?”

For a second, I think I see a shadow cross his face. But by the time I say, “I’m kidding—hello?” I’m pretty sure that was my imagination.

“Just so long as you don’t sell them to Variety,” he says, making me tap a finger on my temple and say, “Now there’s an idea.”

“Careful,” he says. “I’d love an excuse to spank you.”

I lift a brow. “Oh, really?”

“Then again, perhaps that’s not a punishment.” Mischief dances on his face, and he leans closer, his breath tickling my ear as he says, “I’ll just withhold sex.”

“I’ll be good,” I say, crossing my heart. “Nary a snoop.”

He chuckles, then gives me a goodbye kiss that is sweet and sexy and full of promise. “I’ll see you at the office,” he whispers. “And I’ll see more of you tonight.”

“Damn right,” I say, then snuggle back against the pillow as he heads out to—hopefully—not make an enemy of Lila.

Since I actually have a hefty pile of work at the office, I don’t luxuriate in the sheets for long. Instead, I luxuriate in the steam shower—how have I never experienced one of these before?—then order an Uber since my car’s been on the Hardline lot since yesterday morning.

Since I don’t have a clean outfit at the treehouse, I have the Uber driver drop me at home. I’m running later than I’d planned, and as I rush inside, I toss my purse on the entry table, accidentally knocking off the brown paper bag I’d left there after Tilda’s visit. A handful of bite-sized candy bars burst out, along with a white envelope, half-protruding from the paper bag.

A letter. I’d completely forgotten that the candy bag also held a letter for me that had been mistakenly delivered next door.

The envelope is only partly revealed, and as I bend down to scoop up the spilled candy, all I can see is the return label. There’s no name, just a familiar address.

Whitsett Avenue. Valley Village, California.

My whole body goes cold.

Jenny.

The letter is from Jenny.

My knees give out, and before I know it, I’m on the floor, staring at the envelope like it might explode. The postmark shows that it was mailed the day before she died, and my hands shake as I pick it up, then rip it open without any ceremony. A single sheet of paper flutters out, landing on the floor beside me. I grab it, my pulse thundering in my ears as I look at the words scrawled in green Sharpie in Jenny’s messy handwriting.

I AM THESE TORN LINES.