My smile widens. “Good. I’m doing my job.”
A tiny dachshund trots across the floor, carrying something that resembles a skeleton hand.
"Walter!" someone calls from the back.
The dog ignores them.
I laugh and shake my head.
The door opens, and the air in the room shifts.
Drew goes still, his eyes on the entrance.
I follow his gaze.
Julia.
She strolls inside, looking perfect. Not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in her clothing.
She spots Drew immediately.
Her eyes move to me, narrowing.
Her hips sway as she approaches, eyeing him like something she misplaced.
Drew starts to move, but I stop him, placing a firm hand over his.
“I’ll handle this,” I say quietly.
His eyes meet mine.
I see the tension. Then concern.
Then trust.
He nods.
Julia stops beside our table.
“Drew.” Her voice is cool and controlled.
“Julia.” He mimics her tone.
She finally looks at me.
“Wow. You’re still here?” Her eyes rake over me. “What’s your name again?”
“Violet,” I say, appearing outwardly cool.
Inwardly, I’ve already ripped every glossy mahogany strand of hair from her head.
She studies me like I’m something she can dismiss.
She’s wrong.
So, so wrong.
“You came by his house,” I say calmly.
