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“I got a new extension cord plugged in and checked the appliances for you,” I told her, blowing on my coffee.

“Thank you. I’ll give you the money for it.”

I shook my head. “No need. It didn’t cost much.”

She gave me a soft smile that made my chest ache.

“There’s no room for any more lights though, I’m afraid,” I told her. “So you’re down that new set you added.”

She winced. “The fire-​starting set. I figured as much.” She took a sip of her coffee, eyeing me over the rim. “I’ll need to think of a new way to outdo you, then.”

I chuckled, having anticipated this response. “No chance.”

She gave me a grin, but I could tell that wasn’t the end of it. “Anyway. Have you thought any further about asking Aileen for more time with Dave T Dog?”

I nodded, smiling at her nickname for him. “I have, actually. Perhaps it’s not such a bad idea. At least, just until Aileen is feeling better.”

She beamed at me, as if I’d just told her she’d won the lottery. As I said before—​adorable. “That’s brilliant. Would he maybe come for a weekend or something?” When Nisa smiled fully, I could see her front row of brilliant white teeth, her eyes bright and clear and framed underneath by the striking angle of her cheekbones. I felt like leaning down to press a kiss to the peak of each swell.

“Yeah, maybe.” The idea of Dave the dog staying for a full weekend made my heart expand in my chest. “I’ll start off with a regular walk and then we’ll see.”

“Izzy might be jealous though. I think she has a soft spot for you.”

My cheeks heated for some reason. Perhaps it was the hot coffee. “She’s a wee gem.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Nisa said proudly, setting her mug down.

Just then Izzy herself entered the room, perhaps having recognized her name being said. She came right up to me, so I patted my lap and she made the jump even with her dodgy back leg. Then she curled up tight into a soft ball and settled in. I stroked her as I sipped my coffee.

Nisa eyed me and Izzy thoughtfully for a couple of beats. “Kerr. You know . . . ‘The Incident’?”

My heart sank. Aw shite. Please not this again. She must have noticed my face fall because she lifted a hand in reassurance.

“I’m not going to have a go at you again. It’s just . . . I realize now, since we’ve gotten to know each other a little better during this”—​she gestured toward the front of the house—“little lights competition . . .”

I raised my eyebrows at the use of the word little. The competition had degenerated into sabotage and then a conflagration in her living room.

“That you would never deliberately hurt Izzy,” she finished. Well, that was a relief. And a long time coming.

“So now I wonder,” she said, her voice trailing off as she looked at me cautiously, “why you continued to lie about it? Why not just say that it had been an accident, and own up?”

I paused, the newfound affection I had developed for her battling with my long-​standing frustration at her dogged determination to believe I had run over her cat. Or in this case, would it be catted rather than dogged?

Trying to relax the tension in my jaw, I attempted to tamp down said frustration as I stroked Izzy’s head. “I wasn’t lying, Nisa. If it had been me, I would have owned up to it. Subterfuge is not my style. It’s only something I got into of late, due to your influence,” I added, a wry tone to my voice.

As she looked at me, for the first time since we started having a back-​and-​forth about this subject a couple of years ago, I saw a kernel of doubt in her eyes. Doubt that the version of events she had chosen to believe was true. And, not for the first time, I wondered why she had believed it so vehemently. Though I had never really asked before, due to the vitriol being thrown my way.

“Nisa,” I said, leaning farther forward for emphasis and making some serious eye contact. “Why was it so hard for you to believe that I wasn’t lying? That it wasn’t me who hit Izzy with a car?”

She blinked, her brow furrowing. “Drew saw you do it. He said that as he arrived home, he saw you hit Izzy as you went down the street.”

I frowned. “Then he must have been mistaken. It must have been a car similar to mine. Perhaps someone who didn’t even live on our street.”

She lifted her gaze to the patio doors, and I could almost hear her brain processing my version of events, trying to reconcile it with the version she had taken as fact—​Drew’s version. “There’s no way you could have done it and not noticed?” she asked, bringing her eyes back to me.

I shook my head. “In any case I’m pretty sure I’d gone out early that day. I remember because I’d had a hell of an early clinic, and then I arrived home to you marching across the street to yell at me.”

Regret washed over her features. “Drew was so sure it had been you. He told me he saw you. I’m so sorry, Kerr. I didn’t even think for a moment that he could have been mistaken—​that he thought he’d seen you specifically, when it was really just a similar vehicle.”