Page 32 of The Thinnest Air
“What do I do if it happens again? If he leaves another note?”
“You call me right away,” he says without hesitation. “I’ll be there immediately. I want to catch this bastard.”
His willingness to serve and protect is refreshing, especially when I compare it to Andrew’s immediate reaction yesterday, which was to shrug, sip his wine, and remind me that we have a state-of-the-art security system and an abundance of phones wired in every room of the house should I need to dial 911. It was only after I began obsessing over every little sound, every parked car in the street outside our home, that he began checking on me more, but only ever at his convenience.
He never did call me back after I left a message at his office.
Ronan seems agitated for a second, shaking his head. “Sorry. I get a little worked up when men feel the need to terrorize innocent women. Stalking is about fear. And obsession. And control. He’s a fucking coward if you ask me.”
“I appreciate you going above and beyond with all this,” I say. “My husband doesn’t really think anything’s going to happen.”
His gaze falls to my left hand. “Husband?”
“Yeah,” I say, realizing I wasn’t wearing my ring yesterday because of yoga, and I made sure to leave it at home again before coming to the self-defense class. It’s flashy and sharp and would only get in the way or cut someone. “Been married nine months now.”
“Newlyweds.”
I trace my finger around the top of my mug, avoiding eye contact as I wallow in shame. Every time I drink a London Fog after this, I’m going to find myself reliving this moment, being here with another man to whom I’m wildly attracted while my husband sits at home.
The tingle in my stomach has no business being there. Neither does the warmth flooding my cheeks.
Now I’m not sure what to say, and wallowing in this awkward silence makes it that much more painful for the both of us.
Staring at my half-empty tea, I push it toward the center of the table. “I’m sorry. I should get going.”
He bites his lower lip, wincing a little. He doesn’t have to say he’s disappointed. It’s written all over him.
“Thanks again,” I say, rising. I tug my long blonde hair out of my messy ponytail and redo it before gathering my things. “And thanks for the tea.”
He stands, his height towering over me as I come almost face-to-face with his muscled chest and broad shoulders. Even after rolling around on the mats, his vetiver-and-bergamot cologne still permeates the air, intensifying from the warmth of his skin.
“Like I said, don’t be afraid to call if you need me,” he says. “I mean it. I want to catch this guy.”
“And I hope you do.”
It’s a quarter after nine by the time I get home. The house is dark. Andrew mentioned maybe having dinner with a few work colleagues, but that was hours ago, and he was on the fence about it at the time.
He must have chosen to go.
I don’t call him—I don’t want to be that kind of wife. The nagging, where-the-hell-are-you kind. No man wants to come home to that.
Changing out of my clothes, I climb into our oversize bed, tunnel under a mountain of covers, and zone out in front of a flickering TV while watchingE! News. My sister’s ex always teased me forcaringabout what celebrities are up to, but the real news is too depressing. Missing people. Unsolved murders. Politics.
No thanks. Mom practically force-fed that shit to us when we were younger. To this day, I’m convinced it’s why Greer is so cynical and untrusting.
I’m perfectly happy in my little Glacier Park bubble, where nothing bad ever happens and breaking news is when Beyoncé and JAY-Z vacation at the Cerulean Sky Ski Resort up the mountain.
Now that I’ve had a little bit of distance from Ronan, I feel foolish. A smart woman wouldn’t let herself get caught up in daydream affairs all because a handsome man shows a little bit of interest. She wouldn’t let herself entertain those kinds of thoughts. And she wouldn’t use boredom as a way to justify it either.
I can’t let it happen again.
Andrew may not be 100 percent perfect, but he’s pretty damn close. And I love him. So much. Even when he frustrates me. Even when this perfect little life makes me so bored I think about hopping a plane to Peru or Grenada and never coming back because an adventure sounds magical right about now.
But I married him in front of all our friends and family.
I took vows.
Till death do us part.
