think it’s time we exchange notes about what happened that night.” He drapes his arm along the back of the couch. “Everything we found out in the aftermath. I’ll show you mine, and you’ll show me yours, so to speak.” “I don’t like to be shown anything by you.” I wrinkle my nose. Truthfully, I want to do this. Badly. The amount of times I’ve considered reaching out to this man to ask him what he knows is countless. But I also don’t trust his intentions, considering our brief history. His lips twist in a grin. “How many Hail Marys do you need to say for lying, Winnifred?” “I’m not lying.”
