CHAPTER 40
No word from Grace. No text, no voicemail, no bouquet of dead flowers. Funny, but fireworks usually happen at the beginning of a relationship, not the end. I couldn't think about that right now, too depressing. Instead, I took pleasure in deleting dozens of emails from journalists requesting interviews. I was about to zap the last one when I noticed it was from customerservice@FloridaSugar.com. Just what I needed, more hate mail. Bracing myself, I clicked on it. It was super weird. Two lines, no signature, and it rhymed. It said:
"You have the wrong guy, the twins are mine. That doesn't mean Matteo isn't a swine. If he finds out that it was me, there will be no apples left on his tree."
What the heck? A clue, a puzzle, and a riddle, all in one. Grace would've loved it. Someon
