A Vow of Deception, A Vow of Revenge novel Chapter 122

She said it wasn't necessary, and Elvis respected her wishes without question.

Winona studied him for a moment, then spoke unexpectedly. "I haven't felt anything for Tyson for a long time now."

If she felt anything, it was only disgust.

Elvis said nothing in response, but with how things stood between them, Winona felt she owed him an explanation. It would be different if it were someone else, but Tyson had been her boyfriend for five years. Clearing the air just felt right.

Elvis seemed momentarily surprised, but then a faint smile touched the corners of his lips. "I know."

Winona smiled, too.

A gentle breeze drifted by. Elvis looked at her, and suddenly spoke again.

"Winona."

Her heart skipped a beat.

All this time, he'd always addressed her as "Miss Thorne." At first, it was out of polite formality; later, it had become a gentle, familiar habit. This was the first time he'd ever called her by her first name.

Plenty of people had called her "Winona" over the years, but right then, when he said it, it sounded softer, more tender than ever before.

"I can't say the past doesn't bother me at all," Elvis said quietly, his voice warm and low. "But what bothers me most is that I wasn't there for you sooner."

If her previous relationship had been normal—if they'd simply dated and parted ways—maybe he wouldn't care so much. But she'd suffered so much because of it. How could he not care?

Winona's breath caught.

The night wind brushed her ear, and she glimpsed the reflection of moonlight in Elvis's eyes.

"What matters to me most," Elvis went on, "is our present—and our future."

Unconsciously, Winona traced the rim of the lunchbox with her fingertips, her heartbeat stumbling out of rhythm.

Elvis's Adam's apple bobbed slightly. His gaze was softer than the moonlight itself.

"So, Winona, you don't need to worry. Not about any of it."

"Pear soup."

Winona set the container on the coffee table and opened it.

Warm steam drifted up, carrying a sweet, gentle fragrance.

Veronica scooted over, nosey as ever. "So? What were you two talking about out there for so long?"

Winona took a spoonful of the pear soup and tasted it.

The sweetness was light, not cloying, and the warmth slid down her throat, spreading comfort through her chest. She remembered the way Elvis had looked at her, the way he'd said her name—her cheeks warmed.

"Nothing much. Just talking." She cleared her throat. "Here, have some soup with me."

"No way," Veronica said quickly, waving her hand. "That's Mr. Rogers's special gift for you. I'll stick to my own soda, thanks!"

Winona chuckled softly, then lowered her head and sipped her soup, one small, careful spoonful at a time.