garage.”
“And I’m the one losing customers.”
We sat in silence, both angry and both trying to defend the same life from opposite directions.
Then Vanessa texted me.
Last chance: Apologize publicly at the HOA meeting on the 14th. I’ll be expecting you.
Irvin held out his hand. “Give me your phone. If we’re deciding what to do, I want to see exactly what she’s showing people.”
Last chance: Apologize publicly at the HOA meeting
He compared her screenshots with the conversations on his own phone. Then he stopped scrolling.
“Claire. Come here.”
Vanessa hadn’t simply selected flattering messages. She had cropped them.
In one exchange, she’d written, Wish I had a man like you.
She had circulated that line but cut off Irvin’s response: You’ll find one. I’ve already got the woman I want.
She had cropped them.
Another read: You’re the only man I can rely on.
His
