Easing the window closed and latching it, I breathe a sigh of relief, peeking out the window to make sure there weren't any passersby who caught me calling the authorities. That would be far less fun than Brigit threatening to do it.
On my phone, I turn the system back on as if it were never deactivated. If it's off and she decides to check, I'm fucked. Then my fun little surprise would be ruined before I got a chance to pull it off.
I know I can't leave this room, or I will definitely be caught. Her entryway camera spans down the entire hall, all the way to the open bedroom door.
Now my mind spins through places in my limited space I could hide.
Can't be the closet. She'll be checking there first to grab something to sleep in.
Shower? Eh. If she needs to use the bathroom... ugh, some things would just be too much of a violation, even for me.
Under the bed? Might have to. She keeps it free of even a single dirty sock, so there's almost no chance she'll be looking under it.
But I've got a few minutes before I need to hide. For now, I can at least peruse her room a little bit.
I bring my attention back to the bookshelf, to the collections sitting on the white geometric shelving.
For someone so practical, I wasn't expecting anything like this from her. A handful of books about crystals, the laws of the universe, even a couple of tarot decks that have a decent amount of use, a massive purple, glittering geode in the middle of it all.
And the photos.
I run my fingers along their frames, admiring my girl and how she's changed throughout the years. Darker hair, lighter hair. Pictures of her dancing in a club that I suspect is Mingle, but there's no way to know.
A tween that has to be her, braces barely peeking through the scowl plastered across Brigit's face, those little bunny lines already in full force as she glares up at the man beside her.
I chuckle, moving on to one of her at her law school graduation, standing alone while everyone around her is surrounded by parents and siblings.
A twinge of pain fills my chest as I note the heartbreaking smile she fakes, proud of her accomplishments even if no one else was.
Brigit has spent much of her life being the only person in the room who wants her to win. She carries herself with the surety of someone who has handled everything life could throw at her without another person to lighten the load.
But she doesn't need to.
I'll carry it for her.
I'll cheer for her loud enough to drown out everyone who's not.
I'll hold her pain, her guilt, her shame, cradle it like it's my own so it's not so heavy anymore.
Next is a group of people, all dressed similarly to Brigit, so it's not a stretch to assume they're lawyers. Off to the side, a man holding a drink is leaning down to whisper something in Brigit's ear, while a woman on the other side has her hand wrapped around Brigit's elbow, holding her own glass up in a toast. Brigit's cheeks are bright red, my favorite color, but only whenImake them that way.
Instinct screams for me to dispose of the picture, get rid of the proof that another man used to make her feel a way that is reserved for me.
The only thing that keeps me from doing so is the vicious black pen marks drawn across his face, so crudely that the paper beneath has been destroyed, the white partially revealed.
This is the only picture where she's surrounded by people who likely supported her, and for some reason, she needed to scratch out one of their faces.
I can only imagine that's the boyfriend she's mentioned in passing and refused to give me more details about.
Maybe eventually.
The click of the lock signals the end of my time to explore.
Fuck.
Diving underneath her bed, I lay completely flat and motionless, keeping even my breathing quiet and shallow. I was so meticulous in planning that I even had to skip my cologne that always makes Brigit's panties wet.
If she were to smell me, she would know immediately that I'm here. I couldn't take the risk.
