Page 27 of Perfect for Her

Just as my hand rests on the front door, his fingers graze over my lower back and my forehead hits the solid wood in front of me as his chest meets my back.

“Before we go any further, I need you to know something,”

I say nothing, the words stuck in my throat as his fingers glide over my hip and grip hard as he pulls me back against him.

“Nothing will change the way I feel about you, but I need the truth, okay? No matter how bad it is, no matter how much you think I’ll hate it. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

Tears fall as I nod, spinning in his grasp until my palms rest on his hard chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my head leaning into him, letting out a breath when his arms wrap around me. “I never wanted this to touch you.”

He leans back, catching my eye as he opens my front door and pushes me back into the house. Once inside, he picks me up, my legs wrapping around his waist as he leads us into the living room where he sits and gathers me close.

“When did it start?”

It’s such a simple question, yet one that I find very hard to answer. Because the only answer I have is I can’t remember and when I tell Mark this, his eyes narrow.

“You’re telling me you don’t remember when you started getting threats?”

His disbelief is clear so I lean back, trying to put as much space between us as I can, but he pulls me close, shaking his head as I smirk. I love how much he loves having me close, and if I’m honest, I love being in his arms, I feel safe here.

“They didn’t start off as threats,” I admit, seeing the doubt in his eyes. “When I started in modeling, they told me to accept fan mail, proposals, and things like that. It was par for the course when you’re in the public eye and especially when you’re supposed to be some of the most beautiful women in the world.”

Mark nods, saying nothing. What I want to tell him is how much I hated every second of the spotlight. I always thought being a model would be glamorous and it was, for a time. Then the comments started, the ones you hear in the silence of boardrooms that discuss the next big names. She needs to lose a few pounds around the hips. I need to see more of her collarbone for the dress to look the best, and my personal favorite, she looks too healthy. All of those words gathered inside me for years and permeated into my being and it took years and years for them to wash away.

“They started as marriage proposals, prom invites and gushing letters about how beautiful I was and I read all of them because they made me feel good. And of course, there were a few that crossed the line, but my manager always took those and looked into them, finding nothing.”

The silence between us is enough to drive me insane and I hate the fact that I can’t read his expression. I can’t tell if he’s upset with me or the situation and it’s making my skin crawl.

“But things changed.” It’s not a question, but I nod, my fingers playing with the hem of his T-shirt that clings to his hips between us. My eyes can’t meet his as the emotions rise within me. “Hey.” Mark’s whispered words flicker around me as I shake my head, not ready to meet his eyes but his palm rests against my cheek and I lose the battle, my eyes rising to meet his. “You okay?”

I give him a sad smile and nod, knowing I need to get through this for him and for me. For us.

“Everything changed when the news broke that I was pregnant with Ethan. I was fired from a pretty big show because I started showing early and couldn’t fit into the sample sizes. When that news broke to the press, the designer was called out and my pregnancy was then common knowledge. It was a few weeks after that the letters started arriving.” I give him the CliffsNotes version of the story, telling him about telling my lawyer and then him going to the police only for them to say they couldn’t do a damn thing to help me.

“You’re telling me these men read the letters and told you that you were on your own?”

I nod, his fingers digging into the globes of my ass as he pulls me even closer to his chest. I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it until I rest my hands on the sides of his neck.

“Honey, their hands were tied. There was no physical evidence and the threats weren’t about my life, they were obsessive rants of a fan. That’s all.”

“That photo in your purse was more than just a letter from an obsessed fan, baby, that person is deranged.”

I agree, but over the years I’ve come to learn that that means nothing in the eyes of the police, especially when nothing has been done physically.

“Is that why you moved here?” he asks and I nod, smiling shyly.

“I was looking for an excuse to find you, and I remember you talking about this town when we were together and I always pictured it as my safe haven. And so, I packed us up and took a leap of faith.”

“Tell me about the picture.”

I take a breath and explain everything. The email, the flowers, and the notes, and with every sentence Mark gets tenser and tenser beneath me and after I’m done, I sit there breathing heavily only for him to lean his head back and stare at the ceiling. He’s silent for way too long and it starts grating on my nerves so I shift, not knowing what’s going through that head of his.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks as if it’s the simplest question in the world when in fact it’s the opposite.

“I didn’t want this to touch you?” I question, his eyes narrowing as he shifts beneath me.

“Are you asking me or telling me?” he teases, a slight smirk on his lips as a sense of calm washes over me for the first time since he walked us into this house.

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