Dishing Up Love

Because she won’t be getting away that easily.

Chapter 19

Erin

YOU CAN RUN, but hiding is futile.

I’ll find you once again, sugar, and then I’ll never let you go.

Everything will be all right.

Because you’re mine.

Love, Curtis

I read the note over and over again Saturday night, after finding it on my nightstand. If anyone else had left me such an ominous message, I would’ve been on my way to the police department and filling out a restraining order, but as I read it once more in Curtis’s deep, hypnotic voice, I can’t help but be soothed by the words.

I ran. I ran like a goddamn pussy. I woke up this morning with Curtis’s muscular limbs entangled with mine, and I was fully prepared to spend the day basking in this new hope of having a happily ever after with the man of my dreams. But then… I shimmied out from under him, my bladder screaming at me to take care of business, and I grabbed my phone off the bathroom floor where I’d left it after my call with Emmy. Before I even unlocked my screen, my notifications popped up, and my eyes widened at the hundreds… no thousands of comments and mentions and tags.

Sally fucking Stewartson. The bane of my existence. If it hadn’t been for her pointing out she recognized me in one of the photos leaked to the tabloids, I would’ve remained the “mystery woman” he was with all night and I could’ve lived in denial for just a little while, getting to know Curtis a little bit better before chaos ensued.

I would’ve been able to learn if it could be all worth the celebrity status, losing all my privacy. But as it is, I really don’t know much about him. Yes, I spilled all my deep, dark secrets to him, and I got to know his protective and loving nature, but really… I don’t know a thing about his past. I don’t know if we’d mesh well as a couple. One date and a night of hot sex does not a relationship make.

I knew the moment he left. I know from my security cameras on the inside of the house and from the fancy doorbell Emmy’s husband installed, since I would be living alone more often than not, that he paced the kitchen and living room. I saw devastation on his face when I assume he tried to change his flight and was told he couldn’t. He wanted to wait for me. The hurt I saw in his expression nearly killed me and made me come running back home to him, but just then another slew of notifications hit my phone, reminding me why I couldn’t do this.

Admittedly, I am not strong enough, with my medical history and past, to just get over what I’ve conditioned myself to believe—that I am not good enough, woman enough because I can’t have kids—all in one night. I don’t have the intestinal fortitude or the confidence in what Curtis and I felt so quickly in order to just ignore and blow off all the comments asking what makes me so special that one of America’s most eligible bachelors would choose me.

What’s so great about me?

What does he see in me?

Yeah, she’s super pretty, but there’s gotta be something else if he spent all night with her. He’s never been seen making out like that before, just dinner dates, one comment reads. It’s a much nicer version of the ones stating things like, She don’t look good enough for his fine ass *side-eye emoji.

It made me want to reply, I know. I know I’m not good enough for him. But he wouldn’t listen to me when I told him that!

So I held strong and stayed away, to save us both unwanted pain in the future, when he’d realize he does want a family with children and was stuck with a woman who couldn’t give him that. Stuck until he left me for someone who could, at which time I’d be absolutely devastated after allowing myself to open myself up again.

It’s just better this way.

Reading his note one final time, I toss it into the drawer of my nightstand and slam it shut, forcing myself to forget about his words. He’ll forget about me soon enough. I sit on the edge of my bed and turn off notifications for all my social media accounts. If I ignore them, maybe they’ll just die off and I’ll be a nobody once again.

With all the attention my pages are getting though, I might as well do a little bit of advertising while people are looking through my profiles. I turn on a saved episode of No Trespassing, pausing it when my best friend and her husband are on the screen with the title of the show across the bottom, and snap a selfie with the TV. I post the photo with the caption Miss you, bestie! Fantastic episode last night and can’t wait for the next one on Friday! @notrespassing @adventurechannel @RealEmmySavageman @RealDeanSavageman *TV emoji