Another neighbor nodded.
“So am I.”
Vanessa looked around the yard, waiting for the room to rearrange itself in her favor.
It didn’t.
Then she made her final mistake.
She pointed at me and shouted, “You should be grateful! A man like Irvin could have any woman he wanted. I was giving him an opportunity to be happy!”
I stared at her.
Then I laughed.
Not because I was trying to be cruel, but because the absurdity of her statement was suddenly impossible to ignore.
“Vanessa, my husband was happy before you arrived. He was happy when you brought the cookies. He was happy when you left the scarf. And he’ll be happy when you stop treating his marriage like a public audition.”
I took Irvin’s hand.
“But let me make one thing clear. If you ever contact my husband with another romantic proposition, leave another gift at our home, or attempt to involve our neighbors in your fantasies about our marriage, we will document it and take whatever appropriate steps are necessary to protect our privacy.”
