Page 13 of Love Me Stalk Me
"That's not fair," I mutter, my voice sounding smaller than I'd like.
She stops, turning to me, hands on her hips. "No? Then tell me, honestly—when was the last time Evan made you feel loved? Not tolerated. Notconvenient.Loved."
My throat tightens, a pressure building behind my eyes. I focus on the floor, unable to meet her eyes. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken truths.
Amanda exhales, her voice softer now. "I just want you to be happy, babe. And I've never seen you happy with him."
There it is again—that truth I can’t help but touch, like a bruise I keep pressing just to remind myself it still hurts. I swallow, shifting uncomfortably. "It's not that simple."
"Yes, itis," Amanda insists. "You break up. You move on. I did it."
"You got divorced," I point out, running a finger over the cool metal of my can.
"Exactly. And it was the best decision I ever made." She shakes her head, exasperated. "You act like leaving Evan would be some catastrophic event, butwhat exactly are you losing?"
I don't have an answer. Because the answer is essentially nothing. I would lose an empty space beside me in bed, silent dinners, and the sting of constant disappointment. What am I even clinging to?
Amanda watches me for a long second, then sighs, shaking her head. "Well, maybe your newfictionalman will teach you how a real man should behave."
I snort, grateful for the subject change. "Amanda?—"
"Nope. No arguments." She's already back on my phone and is tapping away, the subtle clicking of her nails against the screen filling the quiet. "I'm giving you the gift of a boyfriend who actually listens."
I groan, rubbing my temples. "This is ridiculous."
"Not as ridiculous as staying with a man who makes you feel invisible."
I don't respond. Because once again, she's right, and we both know it. Before I can dwell on it further, there's a knock at the door, the sound reverberating through my office.
Amanda winks, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ooh, maybe it's my future husband."
I glare at her as I turn toward the door—only to freeze when I see Callahan standing there. He fills the doorframe with his broad shoulders, his presence immediately changing the energy in the room. The fluorescent lights catch the subtle silver chain at his neck—the dog tags I noticed last night, partially hidden under his shirt.
"Sorry to interrupt," he says, voice low and even, but his eyes drift to Amanda with a hint of amusement. "Didn't mean to kill the fun."
"Oh, we were just discussing men who are obsessed with Izzy," Amanda says sweetly. "Just girl talk. Nothing you need to worry about."
I want to die. The heat rising in my cheeks feels like it could set the building on fire.
Callahan raises an eyebrow, his face carefully neutral. "Just checking in. Saw what happened with that client who propositioned you in the fitting room. Making sure you're okay."
I clear my throat, suddenly very aware of how close he's standing. "I'm fine."
He nods, then glances at my desk. "I'll be here late reviewing surveillance, but I'm grabbing dinner. You need anythingfrom outside?"
I’m surprised by the offer. "You're staying late?"
"Security overhaul," he says easily. "Food?"
I shake my head, my hair brushing against my shoulders with the movement. "I'm good, thanks."
"I also need to set up multi-factor authentication on your work email if you don't mind. We're improving security protocols on company devices."
Amanda hands him my phone without asking me, the device disappearing into his large hand. Not like I really have personal information to hide, anyway. Well, except potentially that new app she installed.
He takes it, nods. "I'll be back in twenty."
As he leaves, his footsteps fading down the hallway, Amanda gives me a slow, knowing grin that spreads across her face like butter on hot toast.
