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“The whole thing was bizarre,” she agreed.
I finished frosting the cupcakes, taking my time, smiling when Demi gave in and started eating one, then moaned and raved about how divine it was, but all the while, my mind was on the damned package.
“Is there a return address on that thing?” I finally asked her, avoiding it myself, like that would somehow help.
“Nope. There’s nothing. I checked. No postage. That guy just brought it here. You got a new stalker or something?”
My mouth twisted. “Not a new one.”
“Are you going to open it or you want me to?”
I almost told her to do it, but that felt too cowardly, and realizing that I wanted to be a coward was what finally spurred me into action. I had many, many bad qualities, but I’d be damned before I’d let cowardice become one of them.
With a curse, I reached for the box, tearing it open.
Inside were red shoes in exactly the same style as the ones I’d been wearing yesterday.
But these were Louboutins.
I read the note tucked in beside the shoes before I could think better of it, and immediately wished I hadn’t.
Scarlett,
I know you have a weakness for expensive shoe porn.
And you know I love to exploit your weaknesses.
Enjoy.
Thanks for everything,
D, aka the love of your life
P.S. We still need to talk.
I nearly threw the shoes out of the closest window. I had them free of the box, had moved from the kitchen and across the living room, opened a window, but as I stared at them I just couldn’t do it.
They were so gorgeous. How could I throw away something so perfect?
Shoe porn, indeed.
I hated that I loved it. The note. The shoes. Everything about it tailored perfectly to appeal to my senses and tear out pieces of me in precisely equal measures.
We were over, had been for years, but it didn’t matter. If he had his way, he’d keep me tied to him forever. He was cruel like that.
The shoes, and particularly the note, was an attack disguised as a white flag, and it worked, did exactly what he intended—got to me. Enraged and weakened me both.
He knew me that fucking well.
No one on earth should know a person that well.
Lovers should have secrets.
In fact, they need them.
Some part of you should stay a mystery in every relationship. Enough mystery to keep some distance and a bit of perspective.
Dante and I had gotten together too young for any of that. I’d given him everything, been too smitten and naive to hold back even one selfish part of myself.
