Page 84 of Forced Proximity

But I can’t. I won’t. No matter how bad I want to, I can’t let him know the truth.

I’ve fallen in love with him.

I close my eyes against the heated shower water. My heart is playing a dangerous, dangerous game, proven again when my mind drifted and I missed the man in the parking lot. What if he had been armed with more than a bat? What if something happened to Justin? Because of me. The stalker is still out there, and I’m still on duty. But once they catch the stalker and I’m no longer paid to protect him, I’ll tell him everything. And maybe, if I allow myself the luxury of hope, we can have something special. As heartbreaking as it was, hearing him last night confirms I’m not imagining anything. He wants to be with me. I have a possibility of a future, a real future, with him.

Ever since Katey and I split, I thought this part of me was dead. Leaving Katey crying in our apartment, while I left with nothing but my duffle bag and a stone-cold face, is a painful memory. Up until now, I was convinced my punishment was to never find love again. But Justin opened my dormant heart with his thoughtfulness and humor, with those dimples and that smile. And I’ll tell him – once the job is over.

The next morning, I leap out of bed at 5:00 a.m. and race to the office. We’re missing something with the stalker. Someone out there knows who this person is, and I need to find them. Another team is assigned to research, but it’s time for me to take matters into my own hands.

For hours, I scour security tapes from the studio and Justin’s gated community. Somewhere is a detail, a clue, a something. I zoom in and out, jot notes, cross-check documentation. Come on, come on. What the hell are we missing? Is it Ivy? Justin’s mother? Someone from the studio? Maybe someone internal? I don’t know Anthony that well, and even though he hired me, he is the most adamant that we don’t bring in feds. He says that this message is from the studio, but have we really heard firsthand that the studio requested this? I pull up a different screen on the computer and type in his name.

A loud knock raps on the office door. I jump and bang my knee into the desk. ‘Ouch.’

‘I come bearing gifts.’ Marcus strolls toward me, holding a coffee and breakfast sandwich. ‘You’ve been going at it for hours.’

I check my watch. Dang. Four hours have zoomed by in a flash. I check my blood sugars, inject, then gratefully bite into the egg and sausage sandwich and wash it down with the coffee. ‘There’s something here and we’re not seeing it.’ I take another bite and chew on the side. ‘If we don’t find something soon, we’ll revisit bringing in the feds, right?’

‘The studio still doesn’t want it public.’ Marcus hands me a napkin.

I wipe my fingers and take another bite. ‘Has someone actually talked to the studio, or is this coming directly from Anthony?’

‘I talked to them early last week,’ he says and I sigh. There goes my Anthony theory. ‘We just have to keep waiting and hope they strike.’

‘This is beyond ridiculous.’ I throw back the rest of my coffee and return to the keyboard. ‘We should have included law enforcement immediately.’

‘I don’t disagree. But it’s not our call.’ Marcus pulls up next to me. ‘I have a few hours. Let’s see what we can come up with together.’

The following two days follow the same mantra. I wake up early, hurry to the office, stay late, and Marcus swings by with food and water. I send information, potential clues, and names that might have been overlooked to the central investigative team, praying something sparks an idea. Everyone from the front gate security personnel, people in the press room and personal assistants of Justin’s former co-stars are given a second glance. My body fills with a hyper sense of urgency. Once the stalker is caught, me and Justin can be together. And I can’t wait.

I don’t get home until after midnight. My crusty eyes ache and I drag myself up the apartment building stairs. Another day, another failed research mission. Before my head hits my pillow, I check my phone one last time. No new messages from Justin.

Even though I’m not surprised he withdrew, each hour without a text or call, my heart drops further into my stomach. But tonight, I drift to sleep with a lightness. Tomorrow, I’m officially done being benched. I never want to go this long without seeing him again.

***

The next day, my heart pounds as I pull into Justin’s place. I flip down the vanity mirror, take out my ponytail and contemplate wearing my hair down. What am I doing? I smooth it back with my palms and glance back at my reflection. Passable.

Butterflies invade my belly. Leaving our last conversation in such a bad place makes me nauseous, but, but! He wants to be with me. I’m going to hold on to this lifeline.

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

‘Justin?’ I follow voices to the kitchen.

Justin, Zane and his lawyer, Erica, are chatting at the table among coffee cups, empty plates and papers.

‘Doc.’ Justin looks up for a split second with no expression, then turns his focus back on Erica.

Did he just call me Doc?

Zane smiles and waves, and the group continues with their hushed conversation. Months have passed since I felt the whisper of being an outsider, and the sting is instant.

‘Okay, Justin, I’ll send a digital copy of this contract to you and Anthony.’ Erica snaps her briefcase closed. ‘Pleasure as always. Zane, take care. Ms Morgan, good to see you again.’

Zane gives me a quick squeeze on my forearm as they pass, escorting Erica out of the kitchen, leaving me and Justin alone. Yes, things on the phone sucked, but I’m doing what I have to do. And we are friends. I told him that. Everything will be fine. Justin stands, grabs the paperwork from the table and crosses the room toward me. ‘Hey.’

He walks right past without a word.

Shit.