It really

“Do you have any money?” I look her up and down. It’s a marvel that her beauty shines through the state of her tattered, filthy clothes. Her boots are grubby and old, and I can see a flash of pink sock through a hole in the toe.

She shakes her head. “Not yet, but I can earn it. When I get a job I’ll pay you back.”

I can’t stand to look at the living room anymore so I step out and close the door behind me. The hall is also covered in boot prints and so is the kitchen. I dare to peek into the dining room and groan in disbelief to see the rainbow shards of what used to be my prized glass sculpture.

I hear her footsteps behind me. “I’ll pay for that, too.”

I swear under my breath. That sculpture was almost ten grand, a stupidly extravagant purchase at an auction house down in London.

I should order her to fuck off out of my house and never fucking come back. I can’t believe she’s even still here, following me around while I uncover more and more of her fucking catastrophe.

But Kennedy.

Ev