And he’s walking toward me.
I can’t breathe, let alone move as he lowers his head to plant a kiss on my forehead. “Morning, baby.”
Goosebumps cover my skin, but I can’t feel anything besides shock. “Uhh.”
He moves back behind the stove to flip something. “You have a part missing on your dishwasher. I just ordered it, so it should be here this afternoon. I’ll install it tonight.”
My jaw drops.The man I’m stalking knows where I live.
“Thanks...” My eyes slide to Joyce, who’s still gawking at the man in our kitchen, and I follow her line of sight to the living area. He’scleanedour apartment. “What?—”
“Also noticed a bit of rust on this.” He holds up a pan that he takes out of the trash. “The store said the replacement will arrive tomorrow between nine and eleven.”
I rub my eyes. I’m imagining things. “What are you...”Doing in my house? Why do you know where I live? And how the fuck did you get in?
“Making breakfast,” he answers before I can finish, speaking and moving around my place with the confidence of someone who owns it.
It dawns on me then that the man I’m stalking is in my house, making me breakfast.
“I’ve made your usual one.”
What?
He nods at a plate with a single slice of bread, hash browns, anddryscrambled eggs—the only form of eggs I’ll willingly consume—then places a couple strips of bacon on it. My ideal breakfast.
“I have two in for you, too, Joyce.”
“He knows my name,” Joyce whispers under her breath.
He knows where we fucking live, Joyce.
She clears her throat, looking between me and Leo in bewilderment. “So, you two...”
“Are official. Yes.” Leo winks at me, and my stomach does both an excited and frightened flip becausewhat?
Forty-eight hours ago, I was having panic attacks over the fact that hemighthave a girlfriend.
“Don’t give Mina a hard time about it. We agreed it would be best to keep it a secret for a little bit,” he tells her when she looks at me, then he points to the mug on the bench. “Your medication’s there, and your tea should be ready.”
How does he know what medication I take? Or that I always take it with green tea first thing in the morning?
Something he said hits me.
No.No.There’s no way he has cameras in my house too. These all must be lucky guesses.
Butterflies explode in my stomach, and for a moment, I’m tired of pretending I’m not so off-kilter that my cheeks are heating at the idea that he might be watching me too. That he’s been standing in the shadows, following my every move, studying me just as I’ve studied him.
Out of everything, I’m scared that this is all a lie, and I’ve interpreted something wrong along the way.
I’ll admit, seeing him move around my kitchen is doing even more unholy things to my insides, but it’s hard to appreciate the sight when I have a million questions.
I hesitate before inching forward and taking a seat at the kitchen island. The last thing I need is for Joyce to ask more questions and start getting suspicious, because right now, the only person allowed to lose their mind is me.
Leo pushes our plates toward us. “Eat up.” He turns and starts washing the dishes.
The silence hangs heavy and deafening, neither one of us able to do more than hold the cutlery and exchange shocked glances.
Joyce mouths something that looks like, “What the actual hell?”
