I'd be lying if I said that it didn't feel satisfying knowing he saw Sophie—glowing, loved, and thriving without him, with me.But I would never use Sophie as a weapon for petty revenge against Paul.Not for anything.
For one, I don't believe in taking revenge against someone who wronged you. No, I believe inkarma. There is some heavy karmic retribution owed to him, and I think seeing that the woman whose heart he stomped on is doingjust finewithout him is a start.
Secondly, I've heard that the best revenge is a life well lived. I've been doing just that—I'm healthy, my mom is healthy and happy, the bookstore is successful and brings joy to my community, I have my amazing friends who feel like family, and now I have my dream girl—Sophie.
So, taking revenge seems unnecessary to me. I believe thatwhat goes around comes around, and Sophie is the best of us anddeservesthe best to come back around to her.
"You didn't... kill him, right?" I ask, only half joking. Tonya's line of work has her connected to just about everyone in this town. She's like one of those movie mob bosses—if you need something done, she knows someone. "He's still among the living?"
"Moi?" Tonya bats her lashes like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth and scoffs. "Callum, I'll have you know I'm as gentle as an angel."
"You're as gentle as a loaded shotgun," I reply flatly, and she beams at that like it's a compliment. Well, to Tonya, it is. "Please tell me we don't have to smuggle you out of the country because you committed murder."
"Alright, Ithoughtabout it," she shrugs with a smirk. "But orange isn't my color, so I let him live. But I did have a little fun before."
"Fun?" I arch a brow, arms crossing over my chest, intrigued and a little alarmed.
Tonya flashes a shark grin, all teeth. "That little shit was hiding out at my friend Rhea's apartment with hisbitchtress."
I blink. "How in the world did you find that out?"
"One of my clients. Do you remember a guy named Dylan Walker? Would have been from your time in school?"
"Dylan..." I frown, the name is familiar as I try to recall it. Then I see a ginger-haired guy in my mind, the Homecoming King, who was a charming senior when I was a chubby freshman. Played baseball, I'm pretty sure. "He was like three grades above me, I think?"
"I was tattooing his sister—Felicity—a while back. She works in the Parks Department and was venting because one of her coworkers at City Hall was hooking up with Dylan andoverstaying her welcome at their apartment. Felicity told him to kick her out."
Her jaw tightens in anger, "Then here comes my dumbass thinking I'm being helpful. Rhea needed a little extra cash and had a spare room, so I passed her number along. Thought I was doing someone a solid."
My eyes soften at the self-reproach on her face. "Ton, that's not your fault."
"Yeah, yeah. Road to hell, good intentions, yadda yadda," she mutters, waving it off. "Still pissed at myself. You know, the one time I actually try to be helpful,this happens.Next thing I know, Rhea's at work, bitching about her snotty, stuck-up roommate Elise bringing around her new guy—and learning just howthinher walls are."
My face twists at that, disgusted at the implication and theaudacity.Paul just continued as normal, as if he didn't leave Sophie wrecked and ragged after lighting a match and burning down their life. He just continued with life, jumping from Sophie to Elise as if it were no problem, as if the people in his life were inconsequential. Not that Elise is a peach, since she knew Sophie existed when she got involved with Paul.
They sound like a match made in hell.
Tonya shakes her head, tucking the cigarette behind her ear. "Then she comes back from a tattoo convention in NOLA and realizes Elise moved him in without asking. When she told me the guy's name was Paul, I knew. The timelines lined up too perfectly."
I frown, shaking my head. "What kind of six degrees of separation..."
"Yeah, so, I realized that I had inadvertently helped—" Tonya pauses, glancing around me to see Sophie still playing with Plot.Her voice lowers into a hiss, "I helped thosemotherfuckers. I needed to fix it. Expeditiouslyandviciously."
"What did you do?"
"Well... I might have written a couple of letters to City Hall... and maybe had Rhea kick out the dickhead and she-devil... and had them black-listed from renting in this town... and a couple of other things I'm not going to tell you to maintain plausible deniability. You're welcome."
Don't ever get on Tonya's bad side.Ever.
"So... you rendered them jobless and homeless?" I ask her, not sure whether to be impressed or scared.Both, honestly.
"No less than he deserves," she scoffs, not even pretending to regret it. "For hurtingourgirl."
Well, I guess karma came for Paul in the form of afive-foot-ten-inch-tall blonde tattoo artist, Sophie's fiercest avenging angel. I've always known Tonya's heart is bigger than she likes to pretend it is. She feels deeply, she cares hard, which is why she has no problem going to the lengths she does for the ones she loves.
Tonya has been described as off-putting because she's rough, loud, and brash, but people just can't see who she truly is. She never tries to dull Bailey's shine when she gets excited. She and Parker bicker like it's an Olympic sport, but she was the first one at his house after his dad passed away. She does pro-bono remembrance tattoos for widows and widowers, and she'll tend to my dad's grave, leaving a couple of flowers there for him when she's visiting her wife.
Tonya would give you the jacket off her back when it's freezing—while also calling you a dumbass for forgetting yours in the first place. She's one of the best people I've ever known, you just have to get past the armor.
