The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 124

“The one on the far left, obviously,” she said.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure. But if you lose this hand, you can’t blame me.”

“If I lose, I’m coming back to deal with you.”

“Hey! How can you be like that? Now I’m not so sure. Hold on!”

But before she could finish, Theodore had already picked up the leftmost one and discarded it. The second it hit the table, Michael, sitting opposite him, pushed his tiles forward.

“A generous move, Mr. Stapleton. That’s the exact one I was waiting for. I win!”

Penelope was speechless.

Theodore let out a short, sharp laugh. “Just you wait. I’ll be back in two days.”

“How is this my fault?” she protested. “Blame your own lousy skills!”

Theodore picked up the phone and stood. The camera shook for a moment before settling on a view from what looked like a balcony. He sat down in a chair, the breeze ruffling his hair as he smoked, his eyes occasionally flicking toward the screen.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Eleven-thirty. It’s gotten so late.”

“Tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Get a good night’s sleep. You’ll have plenty to cry about tomorrow.”

Her eyelids, which had just started to feel heavy, shot open. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Theodore’s eyes narrowed. “Penelope, who was it that swore they would take their medicine on time every single day without fail?”

The medicine.

Penelope shot up from her seat. “Oh, no! I completely forgot!”

She bolted downstairs. It was eleven-thirty. Even if she floored it all the way to Dr. Olson’s clinic… it was too late. Realizing there was no way to fix it, she slumped onto the staircase.

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