Goldie Locks: Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

He still looks and smells great, just looks… tired.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s been waiting for me all night under this bridge.

Has he?

He gives a little shrug and I feel myself wanting to get angry. To yell at him for following me.

Now it all makes sense.

But instead of feeling upset, I feel safer than ever.

I feel like somebody actually cares about me for the first time in my life, and truth be told I’m not sure what to make of it.

I open my mouth to say something. To confront him about following me, to tell him how worried I’ve been.

But if I tell him that, I have to tell him everything.

“We need to talk,” he says seriously, handing me a hot coffee and motioning in front of us with his huge arm.

The box factory isn’t far from a pier and in a few moments, we’re away from the work crowd, weaving our way between pillars and over the weathered boards of a dock.

For people that need to talk, we walk in silence for a long time until we both quietly settle on a bench overlooking the sea and the morning sun as it starts to rise.

Handing me a toasted bacon and cheese bagel that’s as big as his hand, he goes first.

“I won’t lie to you Phoebe, I followed you from your apartment. I had to. I forgot to give you this,” he says, taking a familiar yellow envelop from his breast pocket.

He’s watching for my reaction and my face must say it all.

I feel myself wince as soon as I see it.

I feel ashamed, scared but also relieved.

Of all the people in the world, I’d only ever chosen to trust Max with this terrible secret.

“So you know,” I hear myself saying, suddenly not hungry but sipping the coffee and using it to keep my hands warm once I set the bagel down.

A chill’s come over me, making me feel hollow. Fragile.

Max’s arm is around me and he pulls me close to him as I start to cry.

“It’s gonna be okay Phoebe, I promise you. Everything’s gonna be fine from now on.”

Chapter Eight

Maxwell

I’ve had all night to think things through, and I’ve decided I won’t hide anything from Phoebe. Including my feelings. Not now, not ever.

Sure we just met, but if I failed to act on my instincts I wouldn’t be where I am today.

I see opportunities and I take hold of them.

Phoebe Gold is the best thing to happen in my life so far, and I’m not gonna let her slip away. Not for any reason.

Whatever trouble she’s in, we can work it out. And this whole apartment, going to work thing? I’d prefer it if that could end today.

I’m not as young as I used to be and staying up all night makes me feel every one of my forty years. But it all disappears as soon as I see her face. As soon as I get close to her.

We can take things as fast or as slow as she wants, but she needs to know I’m here for her and she needs to know how I feel about her. Feelings that include me not wanting to see her in that crummy apartment or this even crummier job.

I’ve ordered us both breakfast and we walk for a time before settling at the pier, where I show her the note.

She’s upset, but not with me. I think she’s relieved more than anything that she can share whatever it is that’s troubling her with someone else.

Putting my arm around her, I pull her closer to me, promising her everything’s gonna be alright. But I need to know more.

“How many notes like this have you received?” I ask her, grimacing when she shrugs, telling me she can’t remember.

“Look, I’d rather not talk about it if that’s okay with you, Max. It’s just some weirdo sending notes and nuisance calls. What can I do?”

“He’s calling you too?” I hear myself ask, my voice rising in anger.

“I don’t know who it is, Max,” she says, pleading with her eyes for me to change the subject, leaning closer into me.

I can’t let it go at that, but encourage her to eat something instead of making her feel worse by going on about it.

“What makes you think it’s a he?” she finally asks after we both eat in silence for a while.

I shrug, looking out to the ocean. “A pretty girl like you," I muse aloud. “Makes sense you’d have admirers.”

She coughs loudly, coffee going down the wrong pipe.

“Admirer?” she finally gasps, laughing ironically. “When was the last time you got any sleep?” she asks, giving me a sideways glance.

“I mean it, Phoebe,” I tell her. “You’re beautiful, why wouldn’t you think someone could be driven half-crazy by you? Have you rejected anyone lately, anyone you can think of that would stalk you like this?”