Charlotte Jameson has overcome the cruelest of tragedies, but nothing prepares her to face a stalker.
The mysterious BMW following her isn't the only uncertainty tormenting her. She is torn between the man who has always been there for her as he pu...
After that discovery, I couldn't bring myself to do any more digging just yet; I was truthfully scared of what I'd find. Instead, I binged Gossip Girl on Netflix for the third time and waited for Andrew to get home.
By the time Andrew was due to be home, I had fallen back to sleep with Millie curled up at the foot of the bed. I woke to fingertips gently brushing the hair out of my eyes, soft lips kissing the corner of my mouth. I opened my eyes slowly and gasped.
Liam.
I screamed, jumping out from under the covers into the corner of the bed, against the wall. I was kicking, trying to push him away, but it was no use. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, it wasn't Liam. It was Andrew.
"Charlotte! Charlotte! Calm down, baby, it's me!" he was saying, holding both of my wrists, trying to get me to stop struggling. I was breathing hard, my chest heaving up and down, my cheeks soaked with tears.
"Andrew, oh my God...I'm so sorry!" I whispered, leaning into him. He wrapped his arms around me tightly and rubbed my back hard.
"Shh...It's okay, baby. You're safe. You must've had a nightmare," he said, kissing my temple.
"God, Drew. We have to get to the bottom of this and get that psycho off the streets before I go insane," I said, leaning back against the wall and pushing my hair back over my shoulders.
Andrew nodded. "Agreed. Hey, did you have any luck with your investigation this morning?" he asked, nodding at my laptop.
Suddenly I remembered everything I had seen on Julia's Facebook page. After I filled him in, Andrew looked as horrified as I felt. When I stopped talking, we just looked at each other for a moment, both at a loss for words. Andrew spoke first.
"Charlotte, what if this is actually true? What the hell are we going to do? It's bad enough having to watch for Covington over our shoulder every minute, now Julia?" He lay back against the headboard, stretching his legs out over mine.
"I know. I never thought I'd suspect Julia of purposely hurting me. It's foreign to even think it. But all of this couldn't be coincidence—could it?"
"I don't think so, Char. I would say to talk to her, but we saw how well that went the other day," he said.
"Ugh. Is it time to go to Florida yet?" I whined.
Andrew pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a couple times. "Thirty-seven days," he replied, leaning over and kissing the tip of my nose. "We'll make it."
I grinned and squeezed his hand. "Of course we will."
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When I woke up the morning after Easter, the sun was already glaring through the blinds. I rolled over to look at my alarm clock. 10:46 am. I hadn't meant to sleep this long, but I guess I needed it.
I threw my legs over the side of the bed and stretched my arms over my head, my tank top rising halfway up my stomach. I looked over at my iPad and once again remembered everything I had figured out about Julia. I had to confront her. There was no way in hell I could just let this go. It all added up too well, and I was no longer on a dangerous cocktail of Zoloft and Zomig, so I couldn't blame it on paranoia.
