To everyone who's waited patiently for me to get my act together — Thank you! <3 Ever
(This is the fourth chapter in an ongoing series and won't make a whole lot of sense if you haven't read the first three. Which you should definitely go do right now. Don't worry—we'll be here waiting for you when you catch up.)
* * * * *
Ever try to make something work in your brain that just doesn't want to? Like, the right half is saying, "This makes perfect sense," but the left half is all, "Yeah, it so doesn't." That's what's happening in my head right now.
Staring at the pic of the unfairly flawless, batshit crazy woman who's determined to ruin my life in one way or another, the right half is telling me she's Caleb's ex-wife. The left half is asking, "But... why?"
Melissa's the one who filed for divorce. She's the one who decided she couldn't deal. According to Caleb, they never even acknowledged the bubbly, blonde elephant in the room. She could've worked harder to keep him if she'd really wanted to. She could've asked him to—
"Earth to Em!" Eric's voice shouts from my phone, which I apparently dropped on the bed while I was zoned out.
With my cell back at my ear, I try to focus. "Sorry. Got distracted. What were you saying?"
"Nothing. I was waiting for you to say something. You ok over there?"
Well that's a silly question. "Not even a little bit. You and Parker make killer spies, and you got some awesome intel, but..."
"It doesn't fix anything."
"Nope."
"But it could, you know, at some point." Eric's optimism is adorable but so incredibly un-backed up by reality. The guys did exactly what I asked them to do, though. And then some. Popping his balloon wouldn't be a very nice thank-you.
"Yeah," is all I say. "Hey, I've gotta call Caleb. But you seriously cemented your best friend status today, Eric."
"Wait—I thought I did that when I put my dick in you, even though I know you suspected I'm not a fan of lady bits." In the background, Parker's sweet, shocked voice yells, "You
what
?"
"Yeah, but you were still in denial about it, and afterward, you weren't. So, really, I was being selfless for the sake of your future sex life." Not waiting for his response to that bit of fiction, I say, "'K, I gotta go! Big hugs to you, and give Cutie a kiss for me... with tongue. And if you could, you know, rub his—"
My supposed best friend hangs up before I can finish my totally innocent request. He's probably going to be rubbing his boyfriend anyway, so why not dedicate it to me?
Looking at my phone, I see I've missed a few texts from Caleb, all demanding an explanation for my surprise sexual assault on him earlier today. The first ring doesn't even get to finish doing its thing before he picks up.
"Jesus, Em. What were you thinking? What if he saw that kiss?"—"He" being our stalker who, as it turns out, really is a dickless wonder, and "that kiss" being my way of drawing out Ms. Dickless—"Did you get an email?"
"Does Melissa have glossy brown hair?" I ask, not bothering to answer any of his totally legit questions.
He hesitates, probably thrown off by what he thinks is a change of topic. "What does it matter?"
"Just tell me."
"Yeah, sure, but—"
"Does she dress like she's got a personal shopper at Saks?"
"Em, you're not making sense. Why are you asking about Melissa?" I almost laugh. If he's confused now, just wait until I get to the point.
"Is she beautiful?" Her picture stares me in the face, and, God, I have so much fucking hate for her. My finger hovers over the "send" button in the chat window on my laptop, and as he starts speaking again, I click it.
"She is nowhere near as..." When he goes quiet, I know he's just seen Exhibit A. "What am I looking at?"
"You tell me. Is that Melissa?" His lack of response is all the answer I need. "It's her," I tell him. "She's the one who's been sending me the emails. She's the one who took the video of us."
"That doesn't make any sense, Em."
"The stalker doesn't want me, Caleb. She wants you."
Normally, his long pauses make me throw internal hissy fits, but this one, I get. He can take as long as he needs to process this massive mindfuck. Hell, I'm still processing it. Fifteen minutes ago, I was convinced that Jeff was obsessed with me. That he was behind all the threats. Now? Up is down and down is up, and it's making me super dizzy.
Wait... Nope, that's not dizziness. It's nausea. I think I'm gonna be sick.
The toilet is too far away, so I run to my bedroom window, throw it open, and spill what little I have in me to spill all over the back patio. You'd think vomiting would stop once your stomach's nice and empty, but no. Your body needs to make extra special sure everything's out and just keeps on heaving until it's satisfied.
"Em! Are you ok?" Caleb's alarmed voice shouts from the phone. Oh God... He heard all that retching and splashing. Gross.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm good. Can you hold on for just a sec?" If I don't brush my teeth and gurgle a gallon of mouthwash right now, I'm going to throw up all over again.
"Of course, babe. Just don't hang up. I'll be right here."
"If you insist, weirdo," I say with a smile, because that weirdo is all mine.
As soon as I can stand the taste of my own mouth again, I get back on the phone. There's a bunch of clattering around, footsteps, the sound of a belt buckle, and the jangling of keys. Caleb's up to something stupid over there.
"Um, hello?" I say, assuming he has me on speaker phone.
"I'm coming over, Em," he says from a distance. Uh. No he isn't.
"Uh. No you're not." If my mouth-attack in the tech room wasn't enough to make his ex-wife unleash our sex tape on the world, him paying me a visit at my house would certainly do it. That woman is teetering on the edge of sanity. Much as I'd love to push her right off the crazy cliff, it's too much of a risk to take just because my tummy hurts.
"Don't be ridiculous. You're sick. And I'm supposed to, what, just stay here? You know that's not happening."
"Ok, ok. But you can't come here, and I can't go to your place. Is there somewhere else we could meet?"
Despite my very recent upchuck episode, the thought of getting to be near Caleb again is too tempting to pass up. Today, after nearly three painful weeks apart, I had my hands and mouth and tongue on him, and I finally felt whole again.
Ugh. What a cheesy thing to say. See what this man does to me?
This is riskier than anything we've done, so far. There's a chance his ex is camped outside one of our houses, just waiting for us to fuck up. I'd probably be able to keep away from Caleb if he weren't so hellbent on seeing me. But if he wants me right now—if he's willing to take the risk for me—there's no way I'm strong enough to tell him no.
"Yeah, I know this one place. I'll text you the directions." He's quiet for a sec while he types them out. When they pop up on my screen, I squint to make sure I'm not reading them wrong. "And, Em? Wear those boots you had on at set strike." His wish is my command, forever and always. "And those ruffled socks. Fuck, those were cute."
Naughty boy.
* * * * *
Caleb's directions lead me to an intersection outside the mall. I pull up behind his truck, expecting him to turn left into the packed parking lot. Confusing me more than I already was, he makes a right... into the woods. About half a mile down a rocky road—thank goodness I have four wheel drive—we end up in a large clearing. It was probably a campground until the mall went up a few years ago, but it's gotta be hard to commune with nature when there's a Target within walking distance. Run out of toilet paper? Fuck leaves, just hit up aisle six.
When my ridiculously sexy older man gets out of his truck and looks at me, his face lights up, and I no longer give a shit why we're in the middle of this creepy-ass forest. Caleb could pull a dead body from his truck, and I'd grab a shovel to help him bury it, so long as I can kiss him and touch him and fuck him as soon as we're done. I hop out of my car and bounce up and down like a perky little rabbit as Caleb makes his way over.
The second he reaches me, I'm wrapped up in his big, strong, tattooed arms. The relief is so powerful, tears pour from my eyes and stream down my face. Between tiny little sobs, I'm finally able to breathe deeply again, filling my lungs with Caleb's metal and sawdust scent. The gentle strokes of his fingers in my hair relax me even further. After another deep breath, I let out a long, contended sigh.
"Don't ever let me go, k?" Not that he could, what with how tightly I'm squeezing him.
"Never," he promises. His deep voice rumbles in his chest, against my wet cheek. His hand leaves my hair and takes my chin, tilting my head back until his concerned eyes meet mine. "Are you ok, babe?"
