Cammy and Greg strode briskly out of the room, their pace just shy of a full-on sprint, as if the very walls whispered secrets behind them. The moment they stepped outside, Greg's car came into view—and there, standing beside it with an elegant bouquet of flowers in hand, was Debbie, waiting.
Cammy forced a bright smile, though the way Debbie's eyes flicked over her fresh outfit made her stomach tighten. "I'm so sorry, Debbie," she began, weaving an excuse on the spot. "I had a hard time finding everything I wanted to bring. That's why we took a little longer."
Greg, standing just behind her, fought the urge to smirk. Oh, he knew the truth behind that delay all too well. Cammy's previous outfit had been ruined—drenched, thanks to him.
And he could still picture her in a flurry of panic, desperately using her hairdryer to salvage the situation, drying the bed just enough to change the sheets before anyone, especially Debbie, could see the evidence.
