"Oh, and my husband is the sentimental type. If you're ever in trouble, just reach out to him. He'd definitely help."
She drew out that last word, letting it hang in the air.
Wyatt's gaze turned cold. "We just happened to run into each other. Drop it."
But Vera stamped her foot, pouting in mock indignation. "Honey! How can you say that?"
"Mildred was practically my mentor back in the day. If she's struggling now, what's wrong with lending a hand?"
She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Wyatt's cheek. "Didn't you say you'd support me no matter what?"
I understood perfectly. This little performance was for my benefit.
I calmly slipped off Wyatt's jacket and handed it back to her. "You've got the wrong idea. I'm doing just fine."
Her gaze—just like Wyatt's—drifted to my clothes.
I understood immediately. "This outfit was a birthday gift from my mother. I just can't bring myself to throw it away."
At that, Wyatt's brow darkened.
It seemed he still remembered.
The day I fell from the building—that was my birthday.