Page 48 of Little Twisted Things

She looked up at me. “No. Why?”

“Good.” I smiled. “You’re coming to my house for dinner, and you’re going to meet Alex.”

“Yay.” She grinned. “I’ll bring the dessert.”

“Sounds good. Is seven o’clock good?” I asked.

“Perfect. I can’t wait to meet that man of yours.”

On the way home, I stopped at the store to pick up what I needed for dinner. My mind wouldn’t calm itself over the events of last night. When I arrived home, I set the bags on the island and began unpacking them. Grabbing the chef’s knife from the wooden block, I stared at it. The compulsion was the strongest it had ever been. But I needed to control myself for a while longer.

The aroma of breaded chicken and homemade pasta sauce filled the kitchen. Tess had once told me that Chicken Parmesan was one of her favorite dishes and she could eat it every day. I made the salad, chopping the lettuce with the very knife that would soon become another murder weapon. Wiping my hands on my apron, I walked over and unlocked the front door for Alex. I still never made him an extra key, and I was grateful I hadn’t.

I took down three wine glasses and poured some wine into them. The front door opened and Alex walked into the kitchen with a smile.

“My God. It smells delicious in here.” He kissed me, and I cringed.

“Thank you.” I smiled. “Tess should be here any minute.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“No. I’ve got it handled.”

“How was work today?” he asked, sitting at the table.

“Fine.” I didn’t ask about his day because I didn’t care. What we had was gone now because of him. And nothing would give me more pleasure than making him pay for his sins. All I needed was to be patient.

“Just fine?”

“Yeah.” I glanced at him. The doorbell rang. “I’ll answer it.” I walked out of the kitchen.

“I brought tiramisu.” Tess grinned, holding up a white box.

“My favorite.” I smiled. “Come on in.”

She stepped inside and looked around. “Oh, that painting.” She smirked. “Front and center where anyone who walks into the house can see it.”

“Right? That’s my feeling too.” Alex walked into the living room. “You must be Tess. I’m Alex. Dahlia has told me so much about you.”

“Don’t listen to the bad stuff.” She winked.

“All good. All good.” He laughed.

“Dinner is ready,” I said.

“Oh my, Dahlia. It smells delicious in here.” Tess stepped into the kitchen. “Is that chicken parm I smell?”

“It is.” I grinned.

“You are a fabulous host.” She sat at the table and placed the napkin in her lap.

I set the plates of food on the table and took a seat next to Alex. It wasn’t my first choice, but if I didn’t, he’d know something was up.

“So, Alex. I’ve always wondered. What’s it really like teaching literature? It sounds romantic until I picture a room full of college students staring at their phones.”

“That definitely happens.” He chuckled.

“I knew it,” Tess smirked, pointing her fork at him.