Obsessed

A loud groan escapes me as I speed up my thrusts with urgency.

“Oh God, I love you so much.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” she says.

Chapter Nineteen

Emily

I bring up the text messages on my phone again. No matter how many times I look at them, the same dread creeps up on me each time.

You’re mine.

A shiver steals through me.

Another one reads:

You better keep your lover boy away from that lunch.

Or he’ll be sorry.

That was the one I was reading in bed last night. Peter doesn’t know I still have them. If he did, he would probably be upset. But I can’t bring myself to delete the texts. I can’t explain it, but having them on my phone helps.

For so long it’s felt like we’ve been trying to catch a ghost in the wind with a shredded net. The texts are solid evidence that, unlike ghosts, this threat exists. It reminds me that my stalker is real. And if he’s real, it means he can be caught.

I exit the message screen and toss my phone onto the table. It lays there, blank and silent, and for some weird and inexplicable reason, I find myself willing it to ring. To whistle off a notification. Anything.

It doesn’t.

Exasperated with myself, I go into the kitchen to get some water. I’m really craving a good, strong cup of coffee right now, but I’m trying to limit my caffeine. For the baby. I allow myself two cups, one for breakfast with Peter and the other for at night before bed.

And Peter. He’s been so great to me, especially since the news of the baby. If he was affectionate and caring before, it’s doubled now. He sulks every morning when he has to leave for work, kissing my belly before going out the door. And then I can expect several calls throughout the day while he’s gone, checking in to make sure I’m okay. I don’t know how I got so lucky.

The shrill ringing of my phone floats through from the living room. Speak of the devil, I think to myself as I go to answer it. When I pick up my phone, though, it’s Heather’s name on the screen.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, me?” she says. “You don’t get to hey me until after you’ve made this right, McAfee.”

I roll my eyes. She’s upset that we still haven’t celebrated yet. But between things with our parents and my new text buddy, I haven’t been in a particularly celebratory mood.

“I’m so sorry, my dear, dear, bestest friend in the whole world,” I say, laying it on especially thick.

She sniggers into the phone. “I miss you. When can I come around? And don’t say you don’t know. I may cry.”

“We wouldn’t want that.”

“You okay?” Her voice goes back to normal as we move from the joking around part of the conversation to the real reason for her call—to check in on me.

“Meh. You know how it is,” I say, careful not to commit to any one feeling. I wouldn’t know where to begin.

“Yeah, totally. I mean, just last year I dropped out of school because a crazy stalker wanted me dead, and then I fell pregnant.”

I snort with laughter. “Okay, okay, geez. The baby is giving me weird nightmares. No morning sickness, though, which is great. And Peter’s working a good lead on the case, which is also great, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“No, I know. And also, I never dropped out. I’m on leave due to extraneous circumstances. How’s school by the way? You still surviving campus without me?”