ALMOST PERFECT
And then Tessy’s lighter, melodic tone, honeyed with false concern.
Lisa froze behind a thick cluster of hydrangea bushes, her pulse hammering in her throat. She shouldn’t listen. It was a violation, a surrender to the very paranoia that was eating her alive. But her body refused to move, rooted by a morbid, aching need to know the truth.
“…just tell her, Grey,” Tessy was saying, her voice dripping with manufactured sympathy. “The longer you wait, the worse it will be for her.”
“I can’t,” Grey’s voice was ragged, raw with a pain that twisted Lisa’s heart. “She’ll never understand. She’ll hate me.”
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