Revenge

It was honestly too easy.

Rhiannon was spiraling—pacing back and forth, muttering to herself in absolute horror, her hands buried in her already messy hair.

Every now and then, she'd stop, stare at me with an expression of pure betrayal, then resume her panicked pacing like she was trying to outrun the consequences of our actions.

And I?

I was sitting perfectly at ease, arms folded behind my head, watching the drama unfold like an audience member at the best one-woman play I'd ever seen.

Truth was?

I had used the spell.

I wasn't that irresponsible.

I wasn't about to take risks like that. Especially not with Rhiannon. I had way too much on my plate to deal with something as terrifying as parenthood. Hell, I could barely deal with Rhiannon on a normal day—what the hell would I do with a smaller, angrier version of her?

So, yeah. I had used the spell. But was I going to let her think I hadn't?

Oh, absolutely.