DING.
Her WeChat chimed. Leah Sinclair, who had been writing furiously, freed her left hand to grab her phone. It was a voice message from Sheila Hughes. "Leah, I'm with Ethan Shaw now. But I told him we're just dating. If it works out, great. If not, we'll call it quits. But if he dares to look at another woman while he's with me, I'll destroy him!"
Leah drew in a sharp breath.
Over the past month, Sheila's messages had chronicled the entire saga. At first, she constantly complained to Leah about how clingy Ethan was—driving her to work in the morning, picking her up in the afternoon, and pestering her for dinner every day, no matter how many times she refused.
Then, slowly, the complaints turned into teasing jabs—about how dense Ethan was, about him sending her flowers again, about him flirting with her. Leah knew then that it was only a matter of time before Sheila fell for him.
"Well, since you're together, just give it a real shot. Ethan Shaw is actually a pretty good guy."
