*Michael*
“I need you to tell me the truth,” Shelby said, staring at me through the mirror in front of her.
“Of course, I’ll always tell you the truth,” I said, walking toward her.
Shelby looked sick, and her knuckles were turning white as she gripped the edges of the sink. I went to put my hand on her back, but she flinched ever so slightly, so I pulled my hand back and let it drop to my side.
“Was that man who was murdered back in New York City, just after Bruce was attacked, was that Blaine?” Shelby said, seeming to have a hard time getting the words out.
I heaved a large sigh, knowing that telling the truth about what I’d done would most likely end in a huge fight with Shelby. It may even change the way that she felt about our relationship.
“Why are you asking me if that was Blaine?” I asked. “What’re you really asking me, Shelby? Are you asking if it was Blaine, or are you asking if I had something to do with it?”
