Page 24 of All Tied Up
The bouquet of sunflowers, arrangement of chocolate-covered caramels, and all three volumes of the first printing ofPride and Prejudicethat had been delivered over the past week were maddening and confusing. Thurston hadn’t called or texted, so I assumed he’d gotten the hint, and I had a hard time believing he’d sent these specific gifts. Each delivery had been an exact replica of items given to the heroine in my first two books. ThePride and Prejudiceset had sent me reeling. The price on those was a quarter of a million dollars. I’d looked it up online when Iwrote the gift into my story.
The only person I knew who could spend that kind of money would be Ransom, but he was ghosting me, so that made no sense. It would also mean he’d read all of my published books thus far since thePrideand Prejudiceset was the wedding gift the hero gave the heroine in the last book. My ideal Ransom I’d created in my head. The real Ransom wanted to shut me out of his life. He had fucked me and was moving on. It was what he did. He didn’t send elaborate gifts, and he didn’t read romance novels. As far as I knew, he’d just read the first one.
I stared at the books I’d put in a firesafe glass display case and placed on my bookshelf. They baffled me the most. Even if someone had been lucky enough to inherit these, why would they just give them away? And to me?
Thoughts of Arden, which were rare, flickered through my head, and I wondered if it was possible. He had read all my books. He’d edited them. He knew my characters as well as I did. Would he have sent them? His way of apologizing? The wedding gift from my novel could hold some significance. But where would he have gotten that much money to buy something so expensive? This wasn’t a typical Christmas gift. It was on another level.
Grabbing my purse, I took a deep breath and went to the door. I normally didn’t go out in the evenings by myself, but this was Manhattan, and it never slept. Especially this close to Christmas. Stores were staying open later, and people were rushing to shop after getting off work. It would be busy and full of tourist.
I’d walk until I saw something that I thought I could actually eat more than one bite of. I needed to eat today. Going all day without food wasn’t good for me, but it was becoming the norm.
I also needed to pick up some more laundry detergent, and if Ulta was still open, I was almost out of my shampoo. With a plan before me, I headed down the elevator and exchangedgood evenings with Wayne, who had been working a lot more shifts these days. I saw him more than any of the other security doormen.
When I stepped outside onto the always-busy street, the sound of horns blaring was comforting. I’d once hated it. They always startled me, but over time, I’d come to think of them as normal. Part of the city. Inside the apartment, the noise was muffled, and I often didn’t notice it. Glancing up and down the street filled with elaborate holiday window displays, I gave myself a small pep talk about finding some joy in this. This was my favorite time of year, and I had been missing it, locked away in my apartment.
I turned left and started down the street toward the busier section, where there would be more food options. However, I could take the side road up ahead and make a little detour. If the rare bookstore two streets over was still open, I could stop inside and inquire about the difficulty to find thePride and Prejudicefirst-edition set and possibly show them the photos I’d taken of them to get their opinion. My need to know who had sent the books centered around my small strands of hope that Ransom wasn’t truly gone from my life. That he felt something. Maybe he had shut me out because of that? Because he was scared of feeling something more than friendship?
I knew the more I spent dwelling on that and clinging to it, the harder reality was going to hit me when the weeks continued to pass with no word from him.
There was also the fact that when I’d had yet another bottle of wine last week while wallowing in my heartache, I had called him. Foolish, but I did it. And the number had been disconnected. That should be a big, bright neon sign right there, telling me that Ransom was gone. He was closing all connection with me.
He had not sent me gifts that were in my stories. Especially notgifts that could buy someone a decent-sized home in Madison. Here, it would be a nice downpayment. And the colorful, expensive wrapping paper that they’d been in wasn’t very Ransom-like either.
I paused at the street I was going to cross and glanced down to my right. It was only eight. The bookstore might possibly still be open. It was three days to Christmas, and people were out, shopping for those last-minute gifts. There was a good chance it would be. I’d google it to check and see, but I couldn’t remember the name of it. I had passed it dozens of times, but the rare books in the windows always caught my eyes. The street was quieter, but it wasn’t a long one. I was also a fast walker. If I got nervous, I’d run.
Slipping my hand into my purse to get out my small can of pepper spray, I clenched it tightly and headed toward the bookstore. The more I thought about who had sent the books, the more I believed it was Arden. He would assume I’d know it was him and not think he had to put a card with it. That made the most sense.
It also was such a devastating thing to admit that it made my chest tighten and my eyes water. I didn’t want it to be Arden. I didn’t want it to be Thurston—although I was ninety-five percent sure it was not. I wanted it to be Ransom.
I missed him. It wasn’t getting easier as the days passed. The pain was getting more intense. Wasn’t time supposed to heal? I needed it to freaking hurry the hell up.
A door opened a few feet ahead of me, and a man stepped out, wearing a pair of jeans and a black hoodie. Two cars had driven by since I’d started down this street, but other than a couple on the other side of the road, walking in the opposite direction, I hadn’t passed anyone else. The lack of stores made this street empty compared to the one I’d been on before.
The man paused and turned to look at me. The turn-and-fleereaction was typical for someone who watched crime television the way I did. If there was more lighting, it wouldn’t feel as if I were walking into danger. This was mostly residential. People were in their apartments, so they’d see if something went on down here …
But this was New York City. Did people even pay attention to what was happening on the streets? Murders were committed on these streets all the time.
STOP, NOA! It is just a man wearing a black hoodie with … possibly a tattoo on his face. Or is that a birthmark? Does it matter? No. Unless I need to ID him later. That would make it easier. But to ID him would mean I’d survived whatever he did to me.
Good Lord, listen to my thoughts. He isn’t going to do anything to me.
I kept walking, although my grip on the pepper spray was tighter, and my finger moved to the trigger. I forced a tight smile and looked away from him, although he was still watching me and kept walking at the same pace. It was likely he could run faster than me.
Don’t tempt the bear. Just walk casually.
“Pretty lady,” he called out just as I reached where he stood. “I have purses. Designer.”
I just bet he did.Join thousands of others on these streets. “No thank you,” I replied and kept going.
“Louis Vuitton. Authentic. You want to see? Yes! Prada,” he continued, and his footsteps fell into step behind me.
Dammit. I should have stayed on the shopping district street.
“No thanks,” I said as my steps quickened.
“Gucci! You like? Luggage too. Just inside. Come see. I will give you good price.”
Come inside and never be seen again? Not happening, buddy. Go away.
