The Misdelivered Secret Between Arthur and the Girl Next Door

a slam.

The next morning, Kayla arrived at 7:03 with two bankers’ boxes and a paper bag.

She stood on my porch in a hoodie and leggings, hair wet from a rushed shower, eyes ringed with exhaustion.

“I brought everything,” she said. “And muffins.”

“You bribing me?”

“Is it working?”

I looked in the bag.

Blueberry.

Helen’s favorite.

“Yes.”

She smiled.

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