He turned to Kitty, his tone laced with indulgence and mild exasperation.
"You've had your fun. Go home. Don't let it happen again."
Kitty clung to his arm, simpering, and shot me a triumphant look.
"Fine, fine, I get it."
She turned to the crowd, voice pitched loud enough for every last person to hear. "See? He basically admitted it. He's just not saying it outright to save a certain tramp a shred of dignity."
"Boys, tear this homewrecker's shop apart!"
Darren pulled me into the car. He took a wet wipe and started cleaning the paint off my face.
Through the window, I watched the shop I'd poured my heart into being destroyed. Smashed beyond recognition. The same customers who had once smiled at me were now spitting at the entrance.
I turned away, slowly.
"Why didn't you tell them I'm not the other woman?"
Darren's hand paused. He reached for mine.
"Kitty cares about her image. If I'd said that, it would've been like slapping her in the face in front of everyone."
"Our marriage already hurt her enough. You've always been so understanding. Can't you just let her have this one? Please?"
"Don't worry. I already warned her. There won't be a next time."
Right. Every time Kitty was in a bad mood, she found some new way to nail me to the cross, to brand me the other woman all over again. And every single time, Darren fed me the exact same lines.
What a performance.
When I said nothing, he took my silence for surrender and softened his voice.
"It's fine. I'll have someone redo the shop for you. Maybe a fresh look, a new style."
I didn't answer. Let him say whatever he wanted.
I was leaving anyway.
Back at the villa, Abner Farley and Sophia Farley took one look at the state of me and froze.
They rushed over, demanding to know who'd done this, insisting they'd make it right.
I caught the flicker of panic in Darren's eyes, and I smiled.
"It was my own fault. I wasn't watching where I was going and tripped over a paint bucket."
"Dad, Mom, I'm going to go wash up."
Darren stared at me, something unreadable shifting behind his expression.
When I first came to live with the Farleys, I'd accidentally knocked over an antique vase. Darren had taken the blame for me.
Consider us even.
It took nearly an hour of scrubbing before every last trace of paint finally washed away.
When I came out, Darren was still awake, as if he'd been waiting for me on purpose.