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My face softens. “I know, Piper. This will all be over soon.”
“I hope so because right now, it’s pure torture. I mean, not because of you. You’re…well, you’re the way you always are. I just miss my life and freedom.”
“I’ll try not to take that personally.”
She chuckles. “Good. So, Housewives of New Jersey or LA?”
I snort at my choices. “Surprise me.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
PIPER
DAY 9
I’ve never watched so much TV in my life.
And I’m pretty sure I’ll go blind if I stare at the screen a minute longer.
Though it’s been nice to just binge-watch some reality TV, I also feel like my brain cells are slowly dying. Between the Housewives of New Jersey and looking up recipes in the books Easton brought, the weekend flew by without any news from the police. My stalker is still on the loose, and they don’t know where he is.
To make matters worse, I’m going stir-crazy not being able to see what people are saying online. I’ve never gone this long without uploading a video. Even though some of my sponsored Instagram posts are pre-scheduled, the fact I’m not responding to comments or updating my Instagram stories is undoubtedly being noticed. It’s unlike me not to be very active, so I can only imagine the rumors that are spreading.
Since Tristan allows me to use the patio, I go outside and call Kendall. Though she’s on her honeymoon, she always picks up when I call. I know they’re having a great time, so I try not to interrupt her too much or keep her for long.
“Can you do me a favor and post something on my Instagram? I don’t know what’s being said so I’d like to at least explain where I am, well not where I really am, but that I’m taking a mental health break and won’t be uploading anything for a bit. Something along those lines. Use one of my pics I’ve sent you.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“It’s gotta be better than radio silence. I’m sure people think I went into rehab or something.”
Kendall chuckles. “Alright, I’m sure I can whip up something vague and perky. Should I say you’re taking a social media break in the Cayman’s?”
“No!” I laugh. “Nowhere specific. I don’t need the locals looking for me, then saying I was lying.”
“Okay, good point. Anything else? How’s operation Get Tristan to fall in love with you going?”
“Pretty sure he thinks of me as an annoying younger sister he’s not being paid enough to babysit.”
Ryan barks out a laugh but is smart enough to keep his snarky comments to himself.
“From what Mom has told me, they haven’t tracked the guy down yet, so it sounds like you might be there for a bit longer. Time to step up your game,” Kendall says with a flirtatious tone. “Took two weeks for me to make Ryan fall in love with me.”
“Don’t start planning my wedding, geez,” I say with an eye roll. “You and Ryan had a history. Tristan and I barely know each other.”
“Alright, so maybe it’ll take him three instead. That still gives you plenty of time.”
“Don’t hold your breath. At this point, I’d settle for his friendship. I’m bored and lonely. All I get from him is his judgy eyes and silent criticisms.”
“He’s probably trying to hold back inappropriate comments about how hot you are,” Kendall says. “I like to think that’s why Ryan was so quiet in the beginning.”
“Don’t feed her that bullshit,” Ryan interjects, and I chuckle at his blunt honesty.
“Well, I think I’ve had enough of this pep talk. I’m gonna call Mom and then try to figure out what to do with the other twelve hours of the day.”
“You’ll be alright, sis. I love you, stay safe, and listen to Tristan,” Kendall tells me.
“Yeah, yeah. Love you too. Bye!”
I chat with my mother, letting her know that Easton’s been bringing us things. She reassures me all of this is temporary, and while I know that, it feels like this will last forever.
Once we say goodbye, I head in and set my phone down on the coffee table. Tristan isn’t on the couch anymore, and I don’t see him in the kitchen, so I assume he’s in his room. I walk to the bathroom, needing to wash my face, though I’ve been washing it nonstop because my entire body is one big sweat ball.
“Oh my God!” I scream when I walk in on Tristan. He’s standing naked in the shower with a towel over his shoulders, but surprisingly the happy trail that leads to his cock isn’t what catches my attention.
“Where’s your leg?” I blurt out, immediately wanting to smack myself. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to walk in on you. The door wasn’t locked, and I thought you were in your room, and—you’re an amputee?” I exclaim all at once.
