“I’m showing you this because I don’t want you wondering where it came from.”
I examined the handwriting.
“Did you ask her to bake you cookies?”
“Rachel, the last time I baked something, the smoke detector filed a formal complaint.”
I laughed despite myself.
He put the cookies on the kitchen counter.
“What do you want me to do with these?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Excellent. I’ll donate them to the neighborhood squirrels.”
“Don’t feed the squirrels. They’ll start expecting gifts, too.”
He grinned, kissed my forehead, and went upstairs to change.
I placed the unopened cookie tin in a cabinet.
At the time, I didn’t consider it evidence of anything. I simply didn’t feel like eating cookies that came with an invitation I hadn’t requested.
The following week, Vanessa found another opportunity.
Irvin was washing his car in the driveway when she appeared wearing a fitted red dress and carrying a glass of lemonade.
