Monica opened the door wearing a long, white nightgown made of silk, her dark hair hanging down past her shoulders, her makeup perfect, and her expression innocent. “Hi, babe,” she said, stepping aside so Trent could come in. “What’s going on?”
He took a deep breath and crossed into the room, thinking the threshold was a point of no return he couldn’t go back from. “I have something important to talk to you about, Monica, and I need the truth from you, okay?”
She studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowed before she nodded. “Okay. What’s going on?” She gave a nervous laugh, and Trent ran his hands down his face as she sat down on the sofa.
He didn’t feel like sitting. He wanted to pace, possibly flail his hands irrationally. But he needed to keep his head on straight, so he sat down a
