The door opens and Reed steps in with an obnoxiously big bouquet of flowers. Actually, you can’t call it a bouquet; it’s morelike a bucket. With a floral arrangement so big, I can’t see his face.
“What in the world?”
“I’m wondering the same thing, Hayls. It weighs a ton.”
He brushes past me, placing it on the kitchen counter with a thud before handing me the note. “From your secret admirer?” he questions jokingly and I want to laugh, but a sinking feeling settles in my stomach, making me grip the note tightly.
If he’d asked me that a few weeks back, I wouldn’t have flinched. Hell, I’d have been proud of that notion. But lately, things have changed and I constantly feel like someone’s watching me—outside my apartment building…at New Year’s… I’m probably imagining it, but still.
“I’m sure it’s from the studio,” I say with a smile before hesitantly dragging a finger through the seal, holding my breath.
Hayley,
Congratulations on the premiere ofJaded Beginnings. I wish you every bit of happiness and can’t wait to see you in your beautiful dress. I know you already have a date, but if you knew who I was, I have no doubt I’d be the one by your side. We’d make the perfect couple. Wewillmake the perfect couple. It’s only a matter of time.
I’ll be seeing you.
Your secret admirer
x
I work hard to keep a straight face but when I glance up, Reed’s creased brow suggests that I failed.
“Who sent them, Hayls?” I cringe at his curt tone.
“Um. A secret admirer.” My nose scrunches as his jaw drops.
“I wasjoking. How do they have your address?”
“I don’t know. I’m guessing he either lives in the building or nearby. He’s probably seen me walking in. The letters are never addressed. They’re hand delivered. He doesn’t know my apartment number and—”
“He? Letters? This isn’t the first?”
Dammit.“This is the first that’s made me uncomfortable. The rest were fine. Nice even.”
“What does this one say?”
Reed steps forward, beckoning for the letter. There’s a fire in his eyes that makes me almost say no. But I can’t keep this from him, not now that he knows.
Cringing again, I gently place the letter into his outstretched hand before squeezing my eyes shut, waiting for his reaction.
“The fuck.”
“I know.”
“And you have no idea who this is?”
“No.” I finally open my eyes when Reed falls quiet, his tense gaze locked on the letter, his jaw rigid, his free hand clenched by his side.
It’s a beat before he looks up, and when our eyes lock, he sighs. “How many has he sent?”
“This is the third.”
“That’s it? Nothing else?”
“Like what?”
“Anyone lurking around or following you?”
