Page 61 of Pretty Cruel Love

Robin’s pacing my bedroom like she owns the place—heels clacking, arms crossed, breath short. I was hoping she’d disappear for lunch so I could finally talk to Sadie about what she revealed during the session, but no. She’s still here. Still spiraling.

“There’s no way he raped her, right?” she blurts, stopping mid-step. Her eyes are wide, voice laced with disbelief. “I mean, come on. Someone would’ve reported on that by now, right?”

“And probably sold T-shirts and matching keychains.”

“I’m being serious, Dr. Weiss.” Her tone dips low. Uncertain. “If that’s true… then her lawyer, the DA, half the media—me—we all missed it. Or worse... we buried it.”

“You can’t lie about something you didn’t know,” I say, walking to the window. The glass is cold against my knuckles.“We’ll run the test again. Properly this time. No bullshit off-the-record warm-ups.”

“Fine,” she snaps. “Then let me ask you something off the record.”

She steps beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat of her suspicion.

“Have you fucked her?”

“No.”

Her eyes narrow. “Do you want to?”

“That’s not a crime.”

“Yes or no?”

“No.”

It’s the cleanest lie I’ve told since this experiment started.

And I only say it because her presence has already ruined any chance of that happening.

In the way I wanted it to, anyway.

Robin doesn’t budge. She’s watching me too closely, looking for cracks.

“Anything else you want to dig into?” I ask. “Or is this the part where I get to ask you something?”

“I’m an open, ethical book.” Her lips twitch, daring me.

“After all the money you made off your podcast—the syndication, the licensing, the branded tote bags—did you ever think to put a single dollar on Sadie Pretty’s commissary?”

She scoffs. “Of course not. That would’ve been unethical.”

“I think it would’ve been a thank you.”

I push past her before she can reply, the space between us charged and sour.

The kitchen is a relief. For about five seconds.

I pull out a box of cookies, just to have something to do with my hands. At the chess table, Sadie lifts her gaze. Her eyes meet mine—and just like that, the air changes. She wants to talk. Wants to explain. I can see it written in every soft line of her face.

I take a step forward.

“Are there more of those in the pantry?” Sheldon’s voice cuts through, unwelcome.

Of course.

So much for “you’ll never even know we’re here.”

I turn my back on both of them and head to my side of the cabin. Cookies in hand. Words unsaid. Lust unresolved.

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