Page 45 of To Obsess

“As much as I hate to. I’ve got a big day ahead of me tomorrow, and I really need to get some solid sleep tonight.” She looks up at me through those gorgeous lashes. What I wouldn’t give to have this view every day of the week from now until my last breath.

“I get that.” I bend to collect the leftovers and stand to my full height. “Let me walk you to your car at least. Wouldn’t want any creeps getting the wrong idea out here.”

She accepts, tossing the garbage in a nearby trashcan before looping her arm through my elbow as we set off toward the parking lot. Having her on my arm feels right, like a piece of the puzzle locking into place. I hope she feels it too, but it’s hard to tell what’s running through her mind.

“Hey,” she says as we make it to her car and she slips her arm from mine. “I never caught your name.” Her brows crease, uneasiness stirring in her soft features. I wonder how long she’s been trying to come up with a way to bring that up without it sounding weird.

I pop the handle on her door, swinging it wide enough for her to slide into the driver’s seat. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve properly introduced myself at the bookstore before I even asked you out. It’s Alex.”

“Well, I’ve had a fantastic time, Alex. Truly. I hope we can do it again sometime.” She turns the key in the ignition and the engine roars to life. “You know where to find me.” With that, she softly closes the door, waiting for me to back several steps away before shifting into drive and pulling out of the parking lot toward the highway.

“I know exactly where to find you, Violet.”

Chapter 41

Violet

I feel as if I’m floating for the entire drive home. That date was a hell of a lot more enjoyable than any I’ve been on in recent years. My cheeks literally hurt from smiling so much over the course of the evening, but that’s a good problem to have.

I pull up to the mailbox and dig my letter out of the center console. I wrote it earlier this afternoon, between the podcast and leaving the house, but I was in such a rush to get to the river for my date with Alex, I didn’t even think about dropping it off. Strange. Although, it’s nice to have something else occupy a bit of my brain. Lately, I’ve spent way too much of my time thinking about whoever this stalker is and what he might want from me.

The dome light illuminates the interior of the car as I scan over the note one more time.

K,

Painting, huh? What’s your favorite landscape scene to paint? Have you ever painted anything else you ended up liking? I’d love to see them sometime.

Pudding is doing well. Thought you’d want to know. But I also wanted to tell you how he got his name.

When I was in elementary school, we had a new student who didn’t seem to have many friends. He was sitting alone at lunch one day, but he looked even more sad than normal. So instead of ignoring him like everyone else, I marched my nine-year-old self right over to him and offered him the pudding cup my mom had packed for my lunch that day.

It didn’t create some life altering friendship or anything, but I’ll never forget the smile that lit up his face. It was the first time I ever saw him smile.

I think about him a lot, and I hope he’s out there doing big things in the world now. Anyway, that’s how Pudding got his name.

Can’t wait for your next letter.

Ignore that. Sorry.

Yours,

-V

Unfortunately for me, I ramble when I get nervous. The more letters we exchange, the more nervous I seem to become. When it was only a card here, maybe a note there, I was able to chalk it all up to some freak thing going on. Now that it was happening regularly, it was becoming harder to ignore.

I toss the note in, shut the lid, and take off up the driveway, ignoring the goosebumps that have spread across my arms. I’m sure it’s nothing.

When I park the car, I pull my phone from my pocket and pull up Mason’s contact. With a huff of a sigh, I type out a quick message and hit send before I can change my mind.

‘Delivered’ pops up below the message. With that, I block his contact, no longer having any desire to speak to him. I find it much easier to cut things off with that level of finality, leaving no avenue of contact for the future.

When I make it inside, I dial Abby’s number. She gushes over every tiny detail, not letting me skip even the smallest thing. By the end, she’s squealing in delight, asking when I’m going to be seeing him again. She seems disappointed when I tell her there’s no real plan for that.

I want him to seek me out, though. We didn’t exchange numbers, but if he wants to see me again, he knows where to find me. I’ll be at the bookstore open to close all next week, so there will be plenty of opportunities for him to swing by and make his intentions known. It takes a little convincing, but in the end, she agrees with my logic. She’s always been a sucker for a man who knows what he wants and shows it anyway.

Our conversation lasts nearly an hour before I’m saying goodnight and promising to meet for dinner and drinks tomorrow. It doesn’t take long to drift off, thoughts of Alex swirling in my head.

Two days pass with no new notes in the mailbox.