Goldie Locks: Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

When I’m with him, when I see the adoration in his eyes I forget. When I see myself through my own eyes, I still can’t do the math that Max plus Phoebe equals us.

“I meant what I said, Phoebe,” Max reminds me, reading my thoughts. “I love you and I’m going to get to the bottom of whoever’s been haunting you.”

“I love you too, Max,” I tell him, wishing I could maybe love myself a fraction of how much I know I love him.

“I don’t have to go look at the office space,” he says again, and I know he won’t if I ask him not to, but that’s not how things should be.

“Maybe we can all go back to town?” I suggest, trying to sound cheerful again. “I could pick up some more stuff from my apartment. Some food for Trixie, which I forgot.” I offer.

“You mean it?” he asks, sounding relieved. “I mean, you’ll stay?”

“You know I will,” I tell him, waiting for him to kiss me and forgetting what I was even worried about when he finally does.

“That’s my girl,” he says. “That’s my girl.”

Chapter Eighteen

Maxwell

It’s driving her back to pick up Trixie’s food and anything else Phoebe needs that really makes me want to go.

The office space served its purpose, and to be honest, I really couldn’t care less about the deal I was working on since I got the call to help Phoebe.

Nothing else seems to matter anymore, we have all we’ll need and then some. Why chase more when I’ve found everything in Phoebe? My queen has finally come home.

Even rethinking the past, considering my dad’s own future now. I’m not as emotionally charged about any of it anymore.

Phoebe is my world now, we’ve both found each other.

I do feel bad about not telling her about the other envelope under her door, but apart from not wanting to worry her I legitimately did forget all about it for a while there.

That little thing that happened? Claiming her as my own, finding the one true love of my life? I guess we both got distracted and I still think Phoebe may be a little overwhelmed with all the change she’s experienced in just a few days.

I guess we’ll both have to get used to our lives being different.

Considering the schedule I used to keep up until yesterday, I’m running the risk of calling official retirement, not that anyone would be there to hear it. Staying at home with Phoebe and her little dog full-time from now on.

Sounds like the perfect plan.

But neither of us can truly rest until we put a stop to whoever’s been making her life miserable.

Seeing as we’ll be in town, I wonder if it’s too soon to introduce Phoebe to my dad after all?

I know he’d appreciate the visit anyway, and having him meet his latest customer who he helped rescue would make his day.

I’ll need to pay him for my services too, as backward as that sounds. No point in letting him go out of pocket for services rendered.

On the drive back to the city, I try and get some more out of Phoebe about who she thinks could be behind all this stalking business but she really has no idea.

“If I had a dollar for everyone who has ever given me a hard time or made fun of, or wanted to make me feel bad, I wouldn’t be renting a crappy apartment and working in a box factory,” she finally says loudly after I quiz her. Maybe asking a little too much about who she thinks it might be.

Maybe it is just some random weirdo? There is no shortage of disturbed people in the world these days.

I feel for her, I really do. And worst of all, I feel like I should have met her before all this started so I could have put an end to it before it made her so upset.

Before it took over her whole life.

“So you’re certain?” I dare to ask her, even just one last time. “No jilted boyfriends. Lovers. Ex-school mates or neighbors with a grudge?”

“Max,” she whines. “I thought we’d covered this and no. Can we talk about something else please?” she pleads, trying to keep it polite but I can tell she’s getting irritated with me playing twenty questions.

“Sorry Phoebe,” I tell her. “But this is just what anyone would ask if they were trying to help with the situation,” I remind her.

“No police,” she says emphatically, mumbling something about wishing I’d never found out.

“I know it’s hard, Phoebe. But I don’t think this person, whoever they are is just gonna stop following you because you’re with me now.”

In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna make it worse, but I don’t want to tell her that right now, she’s been through enough.