Page 29 of Downfall

Looking over her shoulder, she smiles back at me. “All-inclusive. I’m just taking advantage of these last few moments of our vacation. Want any snacks for the plane?”

“Why not?” I walk over with my tote, holding it open to her. “Load me up.”

After breakfast, the same blacked-out SUV from our night out rolls into the resort’s circular driveway. We had a shared van scheduled for our ride to the airport, but at this point, I just roll my eyes as Viv whistles beside me, climbing into the backseat.

“Guess he’s not quite done with the gifts,” she teases.

“How long can this possibly go on? He sends dresses and dildos for years, and what? I never have sex again because some mystery stalker makes it so?” I was nervous about my stalker before. Of course, I was. But after this trip, I’m not nervous or scared anymore. I’m intrigued.

It’s been over two years since the first package and texts. I changed my phone number, and I’ve even moved, but within a couple of weeks, I’m receiving flowers and text messages again. So, now I’m just biding my time, waiting for him to make his move. He has to show himself at some point.

“I don’t think you’ll be waiting much longer to find out who he is. He’s becoming bolder, and the fact that you aren’t nervous gives me calm about it,” she says, reaching out to hold my hand across the middle of the leather backseat. “Yeah, you have a total sense of peace about it. The time is coming.”

“What’s the move, though? Think I’ll know it’s him when he starts coming around?”

She laughs, releasing me. “Maybe you’ll only know it’s him after he doesn’t stop you from having sex with himself.”

My indignant look is ruined by the laugh that bursts out of me, which only makes Viv laugh harder. By the time we pull up to the airport, the driver hopping out to get our suitcases out of the trunk, tears are dripping down our cheeks.

We finally pull ourselves together long enough to check our bags and breeze through security. We make it to our gate with plenty of time to spare, so we sit down at a long glass-top bar near our gate for one last drink in Mexico.

We order margaritas, of course, clinking our glasses together in a toast to our amazing week.

“This week was incredible. I can’t thank you enough for the upgrades,” Viv says, sipping her drink.

“Don’t thank me anymore. You are my family, Viv. We should make this an annual tradition. I’m not ready to go back to school or work… ugh, my apartment is a mess.”

“Mine, too. Guess we know what we’ll be doing when we get home from our relaxing time away. And I bet Max will have a list of stuff when I get to the restaurant tomorrow.”

“Probably. Next year we’ll bring him, so he can’t complain.”

“Good idea.”

Comfort fills me as I unlock my apartment door. No matter how relaxing being away from reality is, nothing compares to the comfort of your own space. Leaving my suitcase by the door, I flip on the lights and look around. Nothing is obviously out of place, but it looks different from when I left.

It takes me a minute to put my finger on what’s different, but when I do, I gasp. My entire apartment is spotless. It’s not just tidy, there is not a speck of dust on any surface. The only person I mentioned my messy apartment to was Viv, so this must be her way of thanking me—again—for the suite. Even though I have no idea when she would have had time to arrange a cleaner.

Assuming she is just being sarcastic, I change into sweats, then open my record cabinet. I choose my mom’s Beastie Boys album, Check Your Head, from the 90s, setting it on my record player. Energy hums through me as I dance along, rolling my suitcase into my bedroom to unpack and start a load of laundry.

Rapping toSo What’cha Want, I dump my clothes and bathing suits from the week into the washing machine. The honey-colored silk dress falls onto the top of the pile, and I pull it out since anything this nice is probably dry clean only. It’s my new favorite dress. Running the material through my fingers, I wonder how my shadow knows my size. Has he been in my apartment?

For the millionth time this week, I shrug, setting my dress aside and pouring detergent into the tray inside the machine. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have by now. And if he’s watching me, then he’ll get a show tonight. After starting the wash cycle, I head back to my record cabinet to put on Queen, dancing and singing in front of my floor-to-ceiling windows until I hear the chime.

Chapter 23

Kolson

Six months later

Tonightisthenight,and I’m forcing myself to sit still and not rush Ryan and the rest of our friends through this sham of a dinner. Ryan proposed to his fiance, Hazel, three months ago, and tonight is his bachelor party. They lived together for over three years before he popped the question, and she had been dropping hints for years, so I guess she wants to rush him down the aisle before he realizes he’s making a huge mistake.

Every man sitting at this table has a fake smile on his face, offering bogus congratulations to my best friend. I’m not sure if any of them have voiced their true opinions to Ryan as I have; I have no choice—I have to protect his money and our company. Hazel is a cunt and would take everything we’ve worked for without batting an eye if we give her the option. She will sign a prenup, even if I have to threaten Ryan’s place at Abbra to get it done.

But tonight, I’ll let him have his fun. Their wedding isn’t for another week, and I have other things on my mind. After dinner, we are taking the limo to the Fox Hole. For Ryan, it’s the place he met Hazel, an ode to his relationship. For me, it’s the place my life will start again. Tonight I will have my heart back.

My old-fashioned sits untouched on the table in front of me. I drove my Range Rover, opting to skip the limo, because I know I’ll be leaving with Abby in tow. I won’t risk being impaired and opening up the possibility of missing my shot. My siren’s homecoming has been planned for years.

I park my SUV behind the strip club in the small employee lot. I’ve done it enough times that I know it won’t be towed, and most of the employees should have seen it enough that they think it belongs here. Walking around the front, I join the rest of the guys. We’ve reserved a VIP table that has a perfect view of the main stage. When we sit down, two scantily clad waitresses pour glasses of Macallan for the table and take orders for any other drinks while flirting their way around the guys.

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