Page 70 of Tattletale

On my way to the front door, I grab the hotel robe off the back of the couch and wrap it around my naked body. I normally wouldn’t sleep naked in a hotel room, but this place is so clean you could probably perform open heart surgery in the living room with no risk of infection.

I yank open the door to see a young delivery man holding a beautiful bouquet of pink, peach, and cream roses that is wider than his entire frame. I can’t see his face; I only hear him talking. “Delivery for Fiona O’Leary.”

“It’s a little early,” I say.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, out of breath. “Um, do you mind if I set this down?”

I push the door open wide and scoot to the side so he can squeeze through. “Anywhere?” he asks.

“Anywhere.”

He sets them down on the coffee table and shuffles right past me so he’s standing outside of the room once more. “Sorry, the vase was heavy. Have a good day, ma’am.” He clears his throat and heads down the hallway.

I glance back at the bouquet on the table. All I see are flowers. There is no little envelope anywhere. “Excuse me,” I call after him, “is there a note by chance?”

“Not that I’m aware,” he calls back.

Wait… Are these from Lance?Probably not. He knows I don’t really like flowers. They are beautiful, but I can’t keep them alive. I’m never home long enough to take care of them. When I come back from missions, all I have is slimy, wilted flower mulch.

After shutting the door, I make my way to the bouquet and bury my face in the thick cluster of flowers. I pick a petal off a peach rose and rub it between my fingers. It’s cool, soft, and smooth. It was a very healthy petal before I plucked it.

There’s nothing left for me to do except appreciate the bouquet. The bouquet already came with stems cut, and an intricate crystal vase, filled with water. All I have to do is admire it. Honestly, it’s nice. Unless you count my mother’s funeral, I can’t remember a time in my life when someone bought me flowers.

I untie my robe and drop it on the ground, set on going back to sleep, when the doorbell rings again.You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.I cover myself back up and stomp to the door. I bet there was a note that the delivery guy forgot.

“Yes?” I ask, opening the door with agitation covering my face.

I see another bouquet. Same exact colors. Same vase. This time, the delivery person is a woman. “Good morning,” she chirps. The delivery woman is bright eyed with a large, toothy smile. “I have a delivery for Ms. Fiona.”

I step backward, holding the door open, and point to the other bouquet. “I think there’s a mistake. I already got this delivery. Did your shop duplicate the order?”

A bead of sweat drips from her hairline, then down her cheek. She shrugs. “May I?”

I nod and she shuffles into the room to set the vase down next to the other bouquet. As soon as her hands are free, she massages her forearms. “I’m just the delivery service, so I’m not sure what you’re talking about. But the flowers are all taken care of, and well, hey, now you have two.” She gives me a small wave as she exits the room and heads down the hallway.

Two would’ve been a coincidence, but ten minutes later, when the third bouquet arrives, I know this is no accident. This time, a tall, lanky young man with a sturdier grip is standing at my door. He seems unbothered by the heavy crystal vase. I wordlessly step aside, pointing to the table behind me. He setsthe vase down and disappears down the hallway after wishing me a good day.

This most definitely isn’t Lance. I know exactly who is doing this.

I rush to the bedroom to grab the phone Gabriel left for me. Sure enough, there’s a new text waiting for me.

Unknown

They are going to keep arriving every ten minutes until you respond.

Me

How’d you know where I was staying?

Unknown

Lucky guess?

Me

Or stalking…

Unknown

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