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Sterling
The audacity of this man would be stunning if I didn't feel like it was all delusion. He can’t accept that things are over, and I’m starting to think he’s made up an alternate reality in his mind that changed the nature of our relationship. I mean, I didn’t even sleep with the guy. We went on a few dates. He’s acting like we’ve been together forever and I’m hurting him by turning him down. I think he forgot he was the one who turned his back on me after getting angry I vented to him about a guy.
A guy I now have feelings for, but that’s not important.
I open the other note.
I’m waiting for you, and I won’t give up on our future. I’m in love with you, Emma. I can’t live without you and I don’t want to. I’ll do anything to prove it - just tell me what I need to do to win back your heart.
Sterling
He has no idea that he never had my heart in the first place. I liked him, sure, but I was never in love with him, and things were never as serious as he’s making them out to be. Creeped out and unsure what to do next, I decide not to throw the notes away - they might wind up being evidence in a future legal case, because he’s going a bit nuts. I make my way to my fridge, feeling a chill tingling down my spine as I grab a bottle of cold brew. Making myself a cup - even though I know I shouldn't have caffeine this late - I try to decide what to do about Sterling.
I don’t want to bother the police. I mean, he’s not threatening me or doing anything other than being creepy. Still uneasy, I drink my coffee, staring at the notes like they’re snakes waiting to bite me. I mean, does this cross into stalking territory? Is he obsessed with me? Or am I reading way too much into this whole situation?
I mean, it seems like he’s trying to charm me and win me back, but at what point does this become unacceptable? I know the law, but there is so much gray area and it seems... different somehow when it’s happening to me. I feel silly - I know this man, kind of, and he’s not violent or dangerous, other than his tiff with Clifton.
At a loss, I try to figure out what to do next. Am I safe in my home? I sigh, picking up my phone and trying to decide if I should call Katie and talk everything out with her. She’s smart and she’d know what to do. But my fingers freeze and the urge to call Clifton wells up in me.
The stress of the day crushes down on my shoulders, and they droop under the weight. I sit on a stool at my breakfast counter. Putting my head down on the cold granite, I let the tears come. In one day, I’d swear my whole life came crashing down.
My boss almost died.
Clifton drove a wedge between us that might not be able to be fixed.
Sterling has stepped up his insane behavior.
And I just don’t know what to do or who to turn to. I can’t help but feel I’m being ridiculous. I can’t imagine calling the cops and saying, Yeah, a guy is leaving love notes for me.
They’d laugh. Or worse, ask what I did to encourage his behavior. Or they’d tell me that most women love romance. Or maybe I’m not giving the cops a fair shake. Maybe they’d handle things beautifully... but I’m exhausted and nothing sounds better than a shower.
Well, nothing except being folded into Clifton’s warm, safe, calming arms.
Chapter Nineteen
Clifton
As the shock of my father’s near-death experience wears off, I realize that maybe I shouldn’t let the accident wash away the mistakes he’s made. I also shouldn't let it push me to make big mistakes of my own. Like pushing Emma away. Maybe we’re playing with fire, maybe we’ll get burned, but I think if I don’t go for it, I’ll spend the rest of my life looking back with regret.
“What are you thinking about?” Anton asks, his gaze studying my face.
“That now that you didn’t die, I can still be mad for all the ways you let me down.” I’m teasing, of course. The doctors told me that him surviving the night is a good sign, but he’s not out of the woods yet. I just don’t want to treat him like he’s fragile - that would be bad for both of us.
I’m glad he’s awake, looking very alert, and has been trying to pester me about business happenings all day. Of course, I know that around the office morale is low and people aren’t getting a lot accomplished, but things are running as smoothly as one could expect given the circumstances.
He lets his breath out in a huff. “Tough crowd.”
I chuckle. I’m relieved that he’s looking and sounding more like himself. I can imagine him walking out of this room and back into the office, giving people grief for not getting enough done while he was gone. Of course, I know we're a ways away from that. First he needs to completely heal. Then he might need physical therapy, and who knows what kind of brain damage he might have. He might never be able to do his job again, and that would be fine. I can take up the mantle and run the place the way he envisions. Even if he never recovers all the way.
I’m already grateful he survived. I know how lucky he is to be here right now. I know the doctors didn’t expect him to make it through the night, nor did they think he’d be doing this well this morning. Yet here he is, talking almost normally and obviously clear-headed - once the pain drugs in his system are considered, of course.
“Did Emma really stop by? Or was that a dream?” As soon as he says the words, those old feelings of jealousy flare back up in me. Of course, he still wants to know how Emma is, and if his favorite non-blood related child is doing okay.
“She stopped by.”
He glances at me. “You don’t sound pleased.”
“I’m fine. Just glad you’re still kicking.” Kicking my ass with his thoughts centering on Emma again, of course. When I was little, this man inspired me. Now I worry I’ll become him. My emotions regarding the man who raised me are complex and deep, and they flip-flop more often than my heart when I’m thinking about Emma.
