Harold's POV
I wanted to strangle Charlies right then and there.
My blood boiled. That little troublemaker! Out of everything he could've said, why did he have to mention that?
But right now, my priority was dealing with one very pissed-off Phoebe.
I flashed my most charming smile, even leaning my face closer to hers, hoping my good looks might earn me some forgiveness. "Phoebe, just hear me out..."
Sometimes though, the same move loses its punch when you use it too often.
In the car's dim interior, with Phoebe still radiating fury, the second she heard me trying to weasel out of this, she didn't think twice. Her fist clenched, and she swung.
A few minutes later, the car door swung open.
Phoebe climbed out of the passenger seat looking satisfied, hands sliding casually into her pockets.
She waved for Charlies, who was pacing nervously, to follow her.
Charlies stole a look at Phoebe's face. She didn't seem as fired up as before.
