Page 67 of Villainous Summer

With my bag packed and set on my kitchen counter, I pulled out my phone to look through the messages Imogen had sent me.

The fuzzy pictures couldn’t do the event justice, and I wished I could have seen the chaos in real time.

It was all too easy to have the package of butterflies delivered to Cory and Kodi’s home for their engagement party. The event popped up on my feed, unbidden.

Who was I not to take that opportunity?

Purchased with a Visa gift card, I had it delivered an hour after the party kicked off. Following their initial visit to the hotel, I was happy to say they did not pick the Ridgewood Inn for their wedding but had hired Imogen as their day-of coordinator.

She shared with me that they had invited her to the engagement party to get a feel for “how the theme should look on the big day.”

No one would suspect me of malice. After all, who would be deathly afraid of butterflies to the point of running and crying into their house in front of all their friends and family?

When Imogen called me to tell me about it, I had to contain the urge to ask her a million little questions. Luckily, she was an open book, telling me all about what everyone was saying, including the bride’s older brother, who had called Cory a pussy.

I knew it was a dark, petty thing inside me that was happy Cory was embarrassed like that, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

He was still messaging Candy regularly, asking for nudes and sending several unsolicited pictures of his hard-on under gym shorts and a video of him jerking off.

Anytime I felt guilty, I would look at yet another obnoxious message, and all remorse would disappear.

He deserved it all and more for what he put me through.

A few days before, I went to the police station and spoke to a detective about him showing my naked photos to others, but the cop was no help, asking me, Why did you send them if you didn’t want people to see them? Who also told me I needed to talk to Cory and ask him to delete them. As if I was about to put myself through that again. The police force in Ridgewood needed sensitivity training, and I needed to handle it in my own way.

Much more effective.

As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed Van’s truck was moved to the gravel drive on the side of the house, giving me the single lane of cement. It wasn’t the slight difference in distance but allowing me the spot closest to the door tugged at something inside me.

Assessing my overnight bag on the passenger seat, I decided to grab it later if necessary, but I wouldn’t play my hand until I was sure of what Van wanted.

The sun was setting on the manicured street as I approached the white door, with its stained glass of lilies. I was on the second step when Van opened it and came out to greet me.

I couldn’t get a “Hi” out before I was in his arms.

This kiss was slow, sensual, deep. One hand was in my hair, the other around my waist. We walked backward into the foyer, where my purse fell. My back hit the wall as he pressed his body into mine, his muscles hard under my hands. Fire raced over my skin, and I wanted more, more, more.

When he pulled away, his eyes, his silver eyes, were glazed over. “Where’s your bag?”

“It’s in the car.”

He left me in the hallway and returned with my bag in one hand. When he came back in, he kicked the door shut behind him.

Taking my hand, he led me into the dining room, where a spread of food was on the table.

“What’s this?”

“Dinner. I figured you hadn’t eaten. Have you eaten?”

I shook my head. “But you don’t need to go through all this trouble.”

Red tinged his cheeks.

“It’s really no trouble. I grabbed a few things from the grocery store on my way home. Didn’t even cook.”

A chilled bottle of my favorite wine sat in the middle of the table. I recognized it as my favorite brand, named after a famous neo-noir crime film. Did he know it was my favorite? Or did he just guess? It’s hard to tell.

“Wow, you thought of everything, didn’t you?”

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