Cold Hearted Bachelor

She goes inside, and I pull out my phone, bringing up Spencer’s number.

“Let’s get a drink and talk.”

“Absolutely,” he says.

“Meet you at the usual place.”

An hour later I’m sitting at one of our favorite little dive bars in the city. The music pumps a soulsy blues number through the joint, and it’s not too busy for a Saturday night.

“What’s the problem? Is it the house?” Spencer tips his beer to his lips and stares at me with concern before taking a drink.

I shake my head. “It’s everything. I don’t like that we’re losing business. I don’t like that some dumb fuck is messing with Paisley. It’s just all too much.”

“Has anything new happened?”

“No.” I pull at the label on my beer. “No, nothing’s happened.” And I’m glad. Because her safety is my number one priority.

“Maybe we scared him off?”

I laugh. “Scared him off? We haven’t done anything.” I set my beer aside. “No, this fucker is biding his time. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce on her.” And I’ll be there.

“Well, that’s not going to happen.”

“I care about her.”

Spencer stares at me. “You really do, don’t you?”

I nod. “I told you I did. I’d do anything for her.”

Spencer sets his beer down. “It’s so weird.”

“What is?”

“You and Paisley. I’m still trying to get used to the idea. I do have to say this, though… I know you’ll keep her safe, so I’m happy you two are together.”

I smile, my chest puffing with pride. “Thank you. Now we need to find you a woman.”

Spencer laughs. “No way, man. I’m not ready for all of that just yet.”

I smile, taking a sip of my beer. “You’d be surprised. It’s pretty amazing.”

“What is?”

“Falling in love.”

Spencer’s eyes grow wide. “Whoa, you never mentioned love. Are you falling for Paisley?”

I stop to think for a moment, but it doesn’t take long. I’ve known for the past few days this feeling growing inside my chest is love. It’s unable to be contained and the more and more I think about it, the more and more I realize it is indeed love. Pure and simple. In every shape and form. I nod, answering his question, “Yes.”

Twenty-Three

Paisley

* * *

“Mom, I’ll be back in a few.” I hop out the front door before she can stop me. It’s been a few days since Saturday when Vaughn dropped me off here, and I’ve felt like a prisoner all week. Like a prisoner being passed around through all of my family and friends. I’ve also kind of felt like a burden.

Everyone’s constantly watching me, making sure I never leave their side. It’s been exhausting.

I have to admit, I do like Vaughn watching me, but I swear it’s like between my parents and Spencer, Vaughn and I haven’t had much ‘alone’ time together. And it sucks.

Because having such a fragile thing going on between us, well, it makes me nervous one little thing could mess it up.

I rush to open the door of my car, and start the engine, pulling away from the house in record time. I don’t think my mother even knows I left.

I can’t even imagine what will happen when the house is all done. Will I be able to stay there alone? For the first time since this whole stalker madness started, I’m angry at the person.

At the stalker.

Who is it?

I’m upset because for once in my life I feel like my freedom is being stripped away from me. I hate it.

And right now, it feels like there’s nothing I can do to fix the problem. Like will I forever be stalked?

Will this person ever show themselves?

Will I forever be a prisoner?

Ever since I spoke with Colby on the phone, I’ve gotten two couples who want me to redesign their homes. It’s a nice side gig. Maybe even something that could turn into a full-time gig one day.

I don’t know.

I like my job now, and I think I’m good at it, and I make decent money. But this, designing homes, is so much more fulfilling. I’ve been busily working on my computer at night, while missing Vaughn, I might add, and coming up with all new designs and layouts.

I stop at a furniture store, glancing at my phone and the live feed from the other day of Vaughn and me. There’s a handful of new comments, and I smile when I see people asking for more.

To say the post went viral is definitely an exaggeration, but it has gotten some visibility. Which is great for me and my new side hustle.

I look over my shoulder before entering the store, and wander around, assessing the many different styles. I want something sleek, and unique. Something that screams Paisley. My name, not the design.

Sure, I went through a phase in middle school where I only wanted paisley designs on all my clothing, backpacks, and anything really. I quickly grew out of that phase, thank God.