Page 3 of Stitched Up in You
I move along at a steady pace as I careen around people on their way to and from home, tugging at the collar of my coat and clenching the carrier tightly in my grip, as beeps and loud honks emit from vehicles, filling the otherwise brisk and tranquil air.
It’s a good thing the vet clinic is only a few short blocks away, because afternoon in the city is the busiest part of the day, making it hard to get a taxi.
“Bernadette?!” an annoyingly familiar voice calls from across the street.
I glance up, and my shoulders fold inwardly as I instinctively try to make myself smaller. Shit, why did I look?
Robbie, the last person I want to talk to, or seeever, stands waving like an idiot across the street holding up traffic and ignoring the impolite looks of people passing by.Shit.
Acting as if I didn’t hear or stare directly at him, I start power walking toward the clinic, intent on getting away from the guy, hoping I can get lost in the crowd. I really don’t want to see or talk to him for too many reasons to count.
Mild stalking is so much hotter in the romance novels, and a romance novel Robbie and I are not.
We hooked up after meeting on a dating app, and he seemed entirely harmless at first, but then asked me to come meet his mother and started delivering roses. Then things got weirder.
Just last week I caught him just outside the brownstone, watching from across the street in the shadows of the tree line. I’ve no idea how he even found my grandmother’s house and just haven’t had time to deal with it since grandma’s health took such a turn so quickly. I really wish the guy would just get the hint and go away. “I told you I didn’t want to see you again.” I say, giving up on avoiding him when he suddenly appears beside me, a wide grin on his boyishly handsome face. Straightening my back, I swing the cat carrier across my body to the other hand to put something tangible between us.
“I know, I know. I only wanted to say sorry about your grandmother,” Robbie replies, keeping up easily with my short frame, his swimmers' build making him look even taller.
The tallness is what drew me to him, that and the fact that I needed cock.Dammit Bernie.
I pick up the pace down the sidewalk, my brows scrunching together and my nostrils flaring as he walks alongside me, gripping the cat carrier so hard my knuckles are whitening.
He shouldn’t even know I have a grandmother. We were just meant to have casual sex on occasion like we both agreed on before he started spying on me.
“Well, now you have, and you can be on your way. Take care,” I say, trying to get him to take a hint. I really don’t want to haveto go to the police and put in a restraining order against the guy, but I will if I have to.
“I missed you, and I didn’t know where you’d gone,” he mutters, shoving a hand into his short brown hair, making it stand on end.
I take another glimpse up at him, and almost feel bad for him, even though he’s terrified me on more than a few occasions, startling me outside my apartment door most of the time. The cute little creep. “You can’t keep stalking me like this.”
“I’m notreallystalking you, it’s just you’re so pretty and mother says?—”
I am so not doing this. I pause on the sidewalk and square off against him. “Robbie if you don’t piss off, I’m going to hit you, and neither of us want that, so just go away, alright? You seem like a nice guy, but if you don’t stop showing up at my house, I’m going to kick your ass,” I tell him, shoving my glasses up my nose as I level a glare at him.
He scoffs, as if the idea is ridiculous, when I’ve tumbled bigger men than him to the ground. All the pent of rage, confusion, and stifled emotions I’ve been holding inside of me for months lets loose. Goosebumps prickle my arms, and my scalp raises across the top of my head as my nostrils flare.
I stop abruptly, causing someone to jostle into me from behind, and ignore the disgruntled sounds of people suddenly forced to walk around me as I glare up at his five-foot-ten frame. “Robbie, I am never. Never, never,nevergoing to want to marry you and have your babies. No matter how many bouquets of roses or weird messages you leave on my voicemail, alright? I told you from the beginning, I don’t do relationships, and I don’t want to date you. We had a good time, but that was it.”
The manchild’s expression falls from hopeful to that of a wounded puppy and even though guilt eats at me, I pray he gets the message this time. Otherwise, I really will kick his ass.
“I thought we had something more. I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll go,” he finally responds, shaking his head with disbelief as he backs away and charges off in the opposite direction.
I watch until he crosses the crosswalk and I lose him in the crowd of people, just to make sure he’s not going to follow me again.
I’m not his weird Bobby Sue to match his sweet stalker from next door, and I do feel bad because the guy seems lonely.Not bad enough to marry him and move in with his mother, but still.
I pause on the sidewalk and suck in a deep breath, letting it leave my mouth in a harsh whoosh as I try to reset myself, shrugging off the leftover anxiety that has been thrumming through me since Robbie showed up. Maybe he will be gone for good this time.
Continuing my way to the vet office, a pebble skyrockets across the concrete when my shoe connects with it, and I watch it bounce and land at the edge of the street where a couple stand waiting for a cab. My attention grabs on them as I walk by, noticing how at ease the woman seems with him, her eyes light and a grin stretched across her lips, so obviously in love—ick.
I turn away from their affectionate display. Love is the last thing I need in my life. I drop my gaze to the ground and grip the carrier tighter. It shouldn’t be this hard to find someone to have occasional meaningless sex with, you would think the internet would have an actual algorithm for sex on demand by now.
I round a corner, getting closer to my destination, and start taking quicker steps to get to the vet clinic without delay, a wave of remorse washing over me at the thought of what horrors Edgar Allan Paw has endured overnight and today.
I totally owe it to him to take him to the pet shop after to grab a treat. The one time I ever stayed in the hospital, Grandad brought my favorite ice cream and candies for me. I wonderwhich cat flavor says, ‘I’m really sorry about your balls, bro.’ Maybe I should make him a cat cake— a fancy feast cake with layers of meats?
My thoughts rushing like a sieve, I barely hear someone call out my name.
