I get into the tube, find a seat and collapse. In twenty minutes, I am walking up the street, heading to my place. The itch at the back of my neck appears again. This time, I glance over my shoulder, but don’t see anything. Strange. Is he here? Did he found a way to conceal himself so I don’t spot him? I increase my pace, reach home and lock the door behind me. Only then, do I heave out a sigh of relief.
I head for the bathroom, have a quick shower, then dress in my pajamas. I pour myself a glass of wine. Slouching back against the sofa with a bowl of noodles—yeah, instant, I know, not good, but damn, if all that MSG doesn’t taste delicious just now. There is something about cheap cup-o-noodles that takes me right back to my uni days when things were simpler. Also, because I’d preferred to do then exactly as I am doing now—slurp down noodles, swig down wine, and watch my favorite show on TV…. Which, by the way, hasn’t changed either, for I flip on the TV and tune intoTwilight.
On screen, Edward watches Bella as she’s sleeping. Yeah, so it’s stalkerish, but for some reason, that scene always gets me.
Maybe because the thought of being the focus of someone’s attention in that singular fashion is mind-boggling. And erotic, and such a turn on. Gah! Oh, Edward. Why the hell does he have to share the name with my favorite fictional character?
I turn off the TV, walk to the kitchen and wash my bowl in the sink. After rinsing my wine glass, I turn off the light and head for my bedroom. Yawning, I walk to the window and peer out. That’s when I notice the SUV parked outside on the road. I can just about make out the shape of the person behind the wheel. It can’t be. Surely not. I peer through the glass, try to discern the features of the man… And it is a man, that much I can tell from the shape of the shoulders, the way his head is turned…in my direction. And in my imagination, the intensity of his perusal heats my blood.
Shit, it can’t be him. Is it? It must be. My instinct tells me it has to be him, that there is no danger from whoever is in the car. What the hell is he doing here? Is he watching over me?
The way Edward watched over Bella? But this is not Ed. This is Baron, remember? Shit, I am tying myself in knots. I step back and the drape falls into place. Moving over to the bed, I slide in between the covers and switch off my lamp. I turn over, snuggle into my pillow and my eyelids flutter down.
When I wake up, the light slants in through the open window. Whoa, guess I managed to sleep through the night. I jump out of bed, pad over to the window, lift the drape to find the SUV still in the same position as last night. I peer through the window, make out the shape of the man behind the wheel. His figure is slumped back. Is he asleep?
I turn away, walk out to the kitchen, make some coffee, then set about making breakfast. I sit down to avocado on toast, lift the mug of coffee to my mouth, then grimace. Shit, I am going to do this, aren’t I?
I get up, pour some of the coffee in a travel mug, then fashion the extra toast and avocado I made into a sandwich, adding cheese and tomatoes to it. Yeah, it's vegetarian, but too bad; that's all he's getting in this house.
Piling the food into a takeaway container, I place it in a brown paper bag, and carry it with me, along with the mug. At the door, I step into my boots, grab my keys and step out of the house. I head down the path, cross the road, and walk around to the driver’s side of the car. Before I can tap on the window, he rolls it down. Of course, he is awake and alert. He had to be to keep watch. Somehow, I just know that he hasn’t slept a wink during the night. Adamant man.
I hand over the paper bag and the takeaway mug. He nods his thanks, takes a sip of the coffee from the mug, then sighs his gratitude. He places the mug in the cup holder, opens the container and digs in. I watch with some satisfaction as he finishes every last bite, then proceeds to drink the coffee. When he’s done, he places the container inside the paper bag and hands everything over to me.
"Thanks," he nods, "but you didn’t have to."
"I’d have done it for anyone," I mutter, "so don’t go getting any ideas."
He tilts his head, surveys me closely. "What ideas would that be?"
"You know. That I’ve forgiven you for what you did."
"That’s not why I’m doing this." He jerks his chin toward the dash.
"Yeah," I blow out a breath, "I need to get back."
I step away, aware that he’s watching me as I head back inside the house. Shit, me and my soft heart. I should have simply let him be, not bothered to give him food. But seriously, how could I go about my breakfast, knowing he had spent the night outside in his car and not do something for him? Argh!
I get dressed, leave the house and walk past the SUV to the tube station. When I emerge on the other side, I don’t look around for his car. Even if I had I wouldn’t have spotted him. He’s too good at this…whatever he does. What is his profession, anyway? Had he been a cop at some point, that he hadn’t thought twice about shifting into surveillance mode with me? Well, whatever.
I walk up the steps and into my studio. For the next two hours, I devote myself to perfecting my new routine before my afternoon class. The day goes by quickly and after my third and final class, I go about shutting down for the night. I emerge into the crisp night air, spot the SUV parked across the road again.
Of course, he’s been there all this time, keeping watch over me. It feels weird…strange… Good? Yeah, it feels weirdly reassuring to know that he has my back. Not that I need protection, despite what he said. I am an average girl living in London. There is no reason to think I am in any kind of danger.
Still… It is comforting to know I have my own guardian angel watching over me. Shit, I have to stop thinking of him in those terms. His presence is getting to me, that’s all it is. I pause, wondering if I should go over and tell him not to tail me anymore… As if that would stop him. If anything, I’d be playing into his hands if I did that. No, I am going to have to simply ignore him. That is the only way out.
I head back to the tube station and then home.
This routine continues for the next four days. How the hell he manages to keep up the surveillance on his own, I don't know. The only time he seems to sleep is in the car at night. Yet when I take him coffee and breakfast in the mornings, he doesn't seem to be run down. Most times, we don’t speak either, except for the occasional and very civil good morning to each other.
Ha, he doesn’t fool me, though. That civility is just a front for the barely civilized intensity he’s hiding inside. And every time I see him, it’s like he’s a blow to the chest. How can I feel so connected to someone I’ve just met? How can it be happening all over again? Each day, I manage to tear myself away from him. Then, I get dressed, go to work, return, all with the SUV trailing me to and from the tube station on either side.
The nights… Despite the fact that my dreams are filled with Edward, it’s Baron’s face that I wake up with first thing in the morning. Shit, this isn’t good. Not at all. Things are getting so muddled up in my head right now.
On the fifth day, I wrap up my last class, and step outside, then glance across the street to find the SUV missing. Huh? I glance up and down the street, find no car, no man. Well, that didn’t take long, did it? Guess I wore him down.
I trudge to the tube station. Why had I thought that he’d hang in for longer, that he’d continue to follow me day in and day out…for how long? To be honest, I’d hoped for a few weeks, at least, if not a month. And he’d lasted, what, four days? And he said Edward had asked him to take care of me. Whatever. I snort, pull out my phone and call Isla.
"Hey babe, where have you been?"
