Page 96 of Something Borrowed

One look at her face again told him. Because she couldn’t.

Monika’s smile stretched, and while Cal found Vic’s glossy berry lips endlessly sensuous and enthralling, the slash of red on Monika’s mouth reminded him of blood.

As if Vic had said something else—she hadn’t—Monika nodded and continued. “And on the taking things that aren’t yours note, Kelsey was on her way over to talk to you, but felt uncomfortable, so I said I’d be her wing woman.”

Kelsey did indeed look uncomfortable, bouncing foot to foot and playing with a pen she wore on a string around her neck. “So yes, Vic . . .” she started, only to be interrupted by Monika’s flapping hand.

“Companies never hire enough staff these days. What could I do but support my friend in what she feared would be an awkward confrontation?”

Vic found her voice—if quietly. “It’s okay,” she muttered. “I get it. I’m leaving.”

Monika’s thin, penciled eyebrows spiked toward her hairline. “You have a full cart of items that belong to the store, Victoria.”

Vic flushed a dull, tomato soup red. “I meant, leaving after paying, obviously.”

“Obviously?” Monika tittered. “It’s actually not obvious with you, though, is it?”

Cal was floored. What the hell was going on? He looked at Kelsey. She shrugged helplessly. “The thing is, Vic . . . We have a photo of you in our book.”

Cal’s first thought was that of course people would have photos of Vic in a book. She was a stunner. His next thought was that he really was an idiot. There was zero chance being in a book of collected photos in a store was for flattering reasons.

“You’re on our shoplifter watch list,” Kelsey whispered, confirming Cal’s worries. “And, um, well, the police don’t really do anything, so it’s, uh, store policy that you’re banned. It’s not personal. Anyone caught on camera is.”

To anybody witnessing the interaction, Cal figured he probably seemed pretty calm, but that was only because he was numb with shock. Vic had been someone’s . . . mistress? Did anyone even use that phrase nowadays? And she was a . . . petty thief? So much for the “honesty” he’d so appreciated about her.

Vic gripped the cart’s handle. “I cannot believe you told Monika all this,” she hissed at Kelsey. “Isn’t this kind of stuff confidential or something?”

Monika made a dismissive sound. “Kelsey tells me everything, and why wouldn’t she? That’s one of the problems today. Everyone, even criminals, think they should have special snowflake treatment.”

Vic shook her head, and her eyes brimmed. Cal was confused, though. Was she crying because she was caught or because she was ashamed or—

Vic yanked the cart in the direction of the closest till. Then, so quietly she might not have been aware she was saying it aloud, she whispered, “Why can’t there ever just be good things at the same time as other good things? Why does something always wreck everything?”

Yeah, Cal thought, following her to the till and taking the credit card she handed him. Why indeed?

She exited the building before her items were even rung through.

Cal was very quiet on the drive back to Vic’s. He couldn’t help it. A million thoughts were hammering up and down in his head, and he had no clue what to say.

Chapter 46

Vic snuck several looks at Cal as he drove toward her house. Then, she settled into full-on staring. It wasn’t like her to be confrontational, but what? He wasn’t going to talk to her? Like at all?

It made sense that he was surprised or angry or whatever he was . . . yet he was the one who had insisted he didn’t need to know anything about her past. She had tried multiple times to tell him what she was really like. He had said whatever it was, it wouldn’t matter.

You are not your actions, a voice whispered—and maybe that was partially true. But only partially. What we do does say more about who we are than our words do.

Okay, well . . . you’re always trying to do better and grow, and that’s all a person can do.

That was true. She’d give her brain that. Still, she could understand if Cal didn’t want to see her anymore. She just wished he’d let her say her piece—

Oh no, you don’t. You don’t get to put not telling him on him. You could’ve insisted, but you didn’t—

Because of this very thing!

Fair.

“Cal . . .”