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“You still want to change before we head over to the movie, right?” I double-check.
“Yeah.” She nods. “But the shorts I want to wear are actually at your house. I have a T-shirt up in your bedroom, too, so we can just go there.”
“Oh, okay.” I nod. “That makes things easy.”
I’m feeling good—fantastic, really—until we’re approaching my house. It’s weird, but something seems off.
And then I know why.
Somethingisfucking off—there’s a white-and-red Mini Cooper parked in my driveway.
And, unfortunately, I know just who it belongs to.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
What in the hell is that crazy bitch doing here…at my house…her car on my property?
“Whose Mini Cooper is that?” Willow asks innocently.
It’s Lydia’s, but how do I tell her that? She doesn’t even know her name because my stupid ass never told her that I actually sure as hell do know the blonde who was in the hot pink dress at the fair.
Willow asks again whose car is in the driveway, and this time she sounds like she’s getting aggravated.
Ah, fuck.
All hell is about to break loose.
Wincing, I say, “Um, do you remember that woman you asked about at the fair, the one who was waving to me like a lunatic?”
“Yes,” she says slowly, her eyes narrowing as she looks over at me. “I remember.”
In a rush of words, I admit, “Uh, well, her name is Lydia, and that’s her car.”
Closing my eyes, I wait for the storm to begin.
Willow
Oh my God, do I kill Arden now, or should I wait and do it later?
I think I’ll go with now, starting with a slow torture of questions.
The first I throw out is a none-too-happy “Lydia, huh? So youdoknow her?”
Arden, sighing and opening his eyes that he just closed, pulls in and parks behind the Mini Cooper.
He cuts the engine and, running his hands down his face, says, “Yeah, I do.”
My heart is beating so loudly that I hear the blood pumping in my ears.
“So you lied? She’s not some ‘random fan’?” I retort sarcastically as I make air quotes with both hands.
Looking straight ahead, he says quietly, “No, she’s not.”
It’s time for a machine-gun barrage of inquiries.
“And her name is Lydia?” I ask, just to be sure.
“Yes.”
