when I saw your messages,” she confessed.
“You read them?”
“Only the ones that appeared on the screen. You told him you loved him and asked him to call before bed.”
She sounded ashamed, though none of this was her fault.
“Is that when you wrote on his back?”
She gave a short, bitter laugh.
“He fell asleep facedown beside the pool. I had sunscreen in my bag. I thought about pouring a drink on him, but that seemed too easy.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“How did you make
