Page 48 of Anyone But You
“Yeah, well, I didn’t like how he was disrespecting you, so I doused his coffee with laxatives every time I fixed it.”
“That is the kind of commitment that gets you raises.”
“I also didn’t like how he called me ‘gal,’ so Mr. Forsythe was getting got regardless.”
“Victoria, I want you to know that you always held me down, and we were always meant to—stop hitting me!” I laughed when she stormed away to our home away from home. I doused the fire and followed after her. “You have to admit it was a little funny,” I teased, crawling into the hut with her.
“It was hilarious, Knox Desmond Ramsey,” she drawled. I couldn’t see it, but I knew she rolled her eyes. “Hurry up and tell me how this woman almost killed your ass so I can go to bed.”
“Death by stapler.”
“Really?” she asked skeptically.
“No, she hired a professional hitman.”
“For real?” she asked, yawning that time around. I only had five minutes until she passed out. I had to make this quick.
“Long story short, Naomi Lereaux was a black widow. I would’ve been her fourth husband that she killed.”
“That’s wild,” Victoria whispered, snuggling closer to me.
“Indeed. With each victim, she had a new identity with a different backstory. She stalked her victims extensively.”
“How extensively?”
“She stalked me and my mother for a little over a year before she initiated her plan.”
“A year? She was committed.”
“And meticulous. She had my mother’s schedule memorized and knew everything about her and her hobbies. She knew my mother’s favorite cafe, which she frequented and visited every Thursday for a coffee and a chocolate croissant. She knew that my mother enjoyed volunteering at the local animal shelter on the weekends and that she played bridge at the country club on Tuesdays with her friends. It was easy for her to “randomly” meet my mother and strike up a conversation with her.
“My mother believed they had so much in common and that she’d made a new friend. I’d have Sunday dinner with my mother, and she’d be so chatty about her new friend Naomi, who was around my age, single, and into traveling. I was dismissive because my mother had a nasty habit of always trying to hook me up with someone. She decided to take matters into her own hands and invited Naomi for Sunday night dinner one evening. And I was a fucking goner as soon as I met her. She was gorgeous, brilliant, humorous, and I loved watching her interact with my mother and how happy she made her.”
“Get to the good part where she tried to kill you,” Victoria mumbled sleepily.
“Be patient. I’m getting there,” I replied, covering us with a blanket. “Six months later, I was engaged to my at-the-time love of my life and looking forward to spending the rest of our lives together. I came home early one day, hoping to surprise her with flowers and her favorite chocolates from a downtown chocolatier. I stopped outside the bedroom when I heard her on the phone. I wasn’t one to eavesdrop—”
“You’re a damn lie about that eavesdropping, but please continue.”
“As I was saying, I wasn’t one to eavesdrop, but she sounded distressed—enraged. She spoke in a tone I’d never heard her use before—a tone I never thought she was capable of. It was dark and sinister—a far cry from her soft, wispy voice. Then I overheard her finalizing her plans with the hitman for my demise.”
“How did she plan on having you taken out?”
“She knew I was a fan of hiking, and that was one of the only hobbies we didn’t share.”
“Let me guess. For the honeymoon, she wanted to go somewhere where you could hike while she stayed behind at your hotel or residence. The hitman would push you off a cliff, and later, she’d be frantically calling the authorities to report that her husband went hiking and never returned. They’d find your mangled body at the bottom, and Mrs. Naomi Ramsey would be a very wealthy woman.”
“It’s almost as if you planned my expiration with her.”
“I’m not that creative or patient.”
“I know. Your PowerPoints aren’t the most eye-catching.”
“Fuck you. My PowerPoints are the shit.”
“I agree. They’re shit.” I continued my story before she could argue. “I contacted the authorities, informed them of what I overheard,andhired a private investigator. A few weeks later, Naomi was arrested, and I was heavily abusing alcohol to try to mend a broken heart. Despite what you may believe, I don’t have mommy issues. My mother took the news harshly. She blamed herself for introducing me to Naomi. I tried to explain to her that Naomi would’ve found a way to get near me whether she introduced her to me or not, but…my mother had always been the self-deprecating type. Naomi’s betrayal spiraled her into a deep depression. Eventually, she snapped out of it, but I knowshe still feels guilty for being unable to see through Naomi’s carefully constructed plot. After all these years, she still won’t let the shit go.”
“Did you swear off love after Naomi?”
