Page 32 of Promise Me Never

“This doesn’t upset you?”

“Babe, you should see some of the mail I get. Most is good, but there are a lot of nuts out there. Felicia collects it from the post office box and goes through it. She finds it intriguing. I don’t have time to deal with it. Ask her, she’ll tell you.”

“Yes, but whoever left this knows what car you drive. Somehow knew who I was. They had to be watching the house, seeing me leave. It’s one thing to get mail at your post office box, but quite another for someone to leave it on your car! I think you have a stalker.”

“This is a small town. Everybody here knows who I am. It wouldn’t be hard for anyone to figure out where I live or what I drive. It doesn’t mean anything.” He crumpled it up and started walking toward the trash can.

“What are you doing? What if we need that for evidence?”

He laughed. “Savannah, if I kept every crank note, we could wallpaper the house. It’s nothing. Trust me. The cost of being famous. You wouldn’t understand.”

She ignored the last remark even though it stung. “Has anyone ever come here or confronted you?”

“Nope. Seriously, don’t give it another thought. I’ve got to finish up, but I’ll only be another hour or so. Then we’ll go pick out your office furniture.”

“Speaking of offices…why can’t I come into yours? Are you hiding a body in there or something?” She made her tone light.

He laughed. “How did you know?”

He turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Savannah stupefied. Maybe she would ask Felicia about it. After all, she must go in there to clean. She walked over to the trash can and retrieved the note. She didn’t care what Bennett said, whoever had left it could be dangerous. She went into their bedroom and put it in one of the drawers under her clothes.

| Thirty-One |

Before—Poppy

Henri and I had a great time in New York. Maybe too great a time. My head was killing me as we drove back from the city despite downing four Advils.

“Why did you let me drink so much?” I asked Henri.

He quickly glanced at me, then back at the road. “Like I could’ve stopped you. I tried to tell you not to mix vodka with Molly, but you wouldn’t listen.”

I groaned. “We should have ended the evening after the first club like Isabel did. She was the smart one.”

“You mean the boring one! Come on, it was great. And if you hadn’t been under the influence, you probably wouldn’t have opened up to me about your creepy husband.”

I sat up straighter. What the hell had I said? “What do you mean?”

Henri shook his head, a grin on his face. “His kink. The way he likes to choke you a little when you’re doing the dirty.”

“Oh, is that all? So he likes it rough sometimes. It’s not like I mind. We keep it fresh. He never goes too far.”

“Whatever you say. Far be it for me to judge. But what about his weird fetish for not letting you go in that room?”

“You mean his office?”

“Yeah, is he like hiding decapitated heads or something?”

“Eww. That’s disgusting. He’s a horror writer, not a serial killer.”

Henri arched a perfect brow. “If you say so, honey.”

I leaned back and closed my eyes, the pounding in my head increasing. “I do. Bennett likes to keep his creative space pure. I get that.”

“Is he allowed to come into your studio?”

I laughed. “Of course. I’m not a psycho.”

“My point exactly.”