His Ex Mistress, His Enemy
“She said, ‘Ash, don’t fall again, your head’s gonna get even harder.’”
“I can’t argue with that,” Zane had slipped in.
I’d cut him a sharp look.
The phone had shifted again. Now Zoe had filled the frame, sitting in a chair, holding a small cup of hot chocolate. Behind her, I’d caught a big pot, a stone balcony, a slice of pale blue sky.
“Hi, Uncle,” Zoe had greeted, waving with full princess flair. “Hi, Pretty Auntie.”
“Hey, trouble one and trouble two,” Zane had answered. “Hot chocolate at what time?”
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