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“Or mine,” Bastien cut in, his expression downcast. “It’s sad to see it, Tara, but you’re your own worst enemy. I’ve spent years trying to make you pull your head out of your ass, but I’ve come to realize that you like it exactly where it is. There’s no helping you.”
Her lips flattened. “Funny how neither of you had a problem with me until these two came along,” she clipped, flicking a brief look at me and Sarah. “They’ve poisoned your minds against me because they know how close the three of us are and they see me as a threat.”
Sarah shook her head. “No, Tara, we really don’t.”
“You did the damage all on your own,” I told her. “And for what? So that you could have them to yourself? Their being in a relationship doesn’t mean you’re losing them. They can still be a friend to you. That won’t change unless you make it change. And asking them to choose between you and people they love will be a surefire way to do it.”
Tara did a slow blink. And then she laughed. It was a slow laugh that built in volume and intensity. “You think Blake loves you? Oh, that’s priceless.”
“It’s the truth,” Blake stated.
Her face fell, and her posture crumpled. She looked up at Blake through wide, disbelieving eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
Emma stepped forward. “Don’t make them choose, Tara. Please don’t put them in that position. You’ll always regret it if you do.”
Tara backed up with a hand to her throat. “Excuse me. I have to go.” She hurried out of the house, and I let out a breath. I didn’t like the bitch, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, even though I still wanting to punch her right in the tit.
I turned to Adam. “Sorry about that.”
He blinked. “Why are you sorry?”
“It’s your birthday and—”
“You defended yourself against Tara’s bullshit, from the impression I got. No one would expect different.”
I nodded, grateful he understood and wasn’t pissed.
Emma sighed. “I think that she heard Blake and Bastien loud and clear. She’ll sulk about it for a few days while she chews on it. But I think she’ll eventually apologize and get her act together now that she knows it’s the only way to keep them in her life. For all her faults, she does care about them.”
Blake didn’t appear convinced of that, but Bastien gave a tight smile.
Turning to me with a long exhale, Blake arched a brow. “Ready to go home?”
Totally.
As we walked down the cobbled path toward Blake’s car, I said, “Tara was right about one thing. I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum.” Even though I’d had the right to know his story, it hadn’t been fair of me.
“Wrong.” He turned me to face him and put his hands on my shoulders. “It was the kick in the ass I needed. I hesitated in telling you for so long because I knew that, despite my best efforts to keep you with me, the truth could make me lose you. Putting me in a situation where I would have lost you if I didn’t tell you was what made me take that chance. And I’m glad I did.” He kissed me until I relaxed against him. “Don’t let Tara fuck with your head or shake your faith in me and what we have, baby. Don’t. Okay?”
I nodded, realizing that was exactly what I’d done, like a damn idiot. “I won’t.”
He kissed me again. “Now let’s go home.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I didn’t have any luck in parking lots at all.
I should have been pissed. Shocked. Upset. A whole host of things. At that moment, though, I felt nothing but curious. Curious as to what Smith had hoped to achieve by reducing my car to this.
Oh, my anger would no doubt come later, once I’d had a proper chance to truly absorb the situation. But right then, all I could do was wonder what this latest stunt was all about. Had Smith done this to yet again vent his anger? Had he hoped that leaving me without a car would make me easier prey? Had he done it for the shock value?
Sidling up to me, Sarah stuffed her phone in her pocket. “Bastien’s pissed.”
“I’ll bet he is. He wants you safe. The fact that some asshole did this outside your apartment building isn’t going to give him peace of mind.” I let my gaze flit across the dimly lit lot. Aside from a few tenants standing near the entrance of the building, there wasn’t a person in sight.
“That’s pretty much exactly what he said,” Sarah told me. “He’s on his way here. Is Blake coming?”
“Yeah.” He’d flipped the fuck out when I told him what happened. “I asked him to tone down his anger, since Smith could be hanging around, hoping to see fireworks. We don’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But whether Blake can keep a lid on it or not … that I don’t know.”
His patience had been severely tested by this son of a bitch enough times already. Blake was also tense at the possibility that Montgomery might try to contact me again. He had someone watching her, apparently, since he didn’t feel able to trust Tara to do it. She hadn’t yet called to apologize for picking a fight at the party a few days ago, but Emma had predicted that Tara would sulk a little first.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I scratched my nape. “Well, this will teach me to park at the far end of a lot. I don’t think the lamp above us was already broken when I got here. There’s glass on the roof of the car.”
“He must have smashed the light to give himself some cover.” Sarah cursed as she once again stared at the car. “That’s a whole lot of damage.”
Indeed, it was. The car was covered in scratches, strips of red paint, and graffiti. The tires had been slashed, the windows and headlights were broken, and there was a puddle beneath the car that made me think the fuel line had been cut. Also, he’d reached through the broken windows and sliced at the seats and headrests. I wasn’t sure if he’d done that before or after he’d splashed bright red paint into the interior of the car. Oddly, he’d opened the glove compartment and soaked the documents in paint.
“What does this scream to you?” I asked. “Is this an expression of fury? An attempt to get my attention? Or just a very thorough effort to ensure my car is out of commission? What does your gut say?”
She flapped her arms. “My gut has nothing. This guy isn’t a by-the-book stalker.”
“There’s a by-the-book stalker?”
“He doesn’t do typical stuff like send you letters, gifts, or flowers—not even dead ones. He hasn’t threatened you or tailed you—or, at least, he hasn’t been obvious about it. He only made direct contact with you twice. The email was really just a way to make you see and read his story. The phone call didn’t contain declarations of love or hate, just very extreme dating advice. Hell, he even admitted that videoing you in the shower was low. And aside from trashing your old apartment, he hasn’t done anything destructive other than this. I can’t read him. I can’t work out why he’s done any of the things he’s done.”
“Maybe that’s what he wants.” Because my gut wasn’t giving me anything either.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to come here for dinner. I should have just let you go straight home. I just didn’t like the idea of you eating alone while Blake was working late—”
