by J K Ashley
“I know you don’t want to see me.” John holds my gaze, not even flinching from my harsh glare. He clears his throat and there’s a long silence before he continues. “But I just ask that you talk to me, for just a few minutes. Hear me out?”
I’ve never seen him act so humbled and innocent, and frankly it’s quite unsettling. I don’t trust it. I don’t trust him. I narrow my eyes and observe him for a few moments, before turning on my heel and walking out of the coffee shop. I don’t even think about Lucy. I just know that I need to get away from John as fast as my legs will carry me.
I’ve been outside the coffee shop for just a few seconds when I hear the door open behind me. I keep walking, eyes fixed to the sidewalk, but I hear running feet. A wide and warm hand grabs onto my arm and I’m forced to come to a stop. My blood boils inside me but I take a deep breath and fight to keep my cool.
“Rachael, wait.” He’s panting, but when I turn back to him he no longer looks pleading and forlorn. His eyes are glimmering in that way they always did when he had something up his sleeve.
“Let go of me,” I say. My voice sounds faint and distant my own ears. I jerk my arm away and he drops his hand.
“I just wanted to tell you,” John says. His eyes narrow. “I’ll tell your fiancé everything. I’ll tell him about us, about our relationship and how serious things used to be between us. I’ll tell him how serious you used to be about me and how I can still see something in your eyes when you look at me.”
I feel my lip curling, and I scoff. “Are you really that dense, John?” I ask.
He blinks at me, and I realize with satisfaction that I’ve taken him off guard. But only for a moment. I can already see the determination returning to his eyes as I open my mouth to speak again.
“James, my fiancé,” I say, emphasizing his name. “He already knows everything about us. I told him forever ago, back when we first got together and were telling each other about our romantic pasts. And he didn’t get jealous or bitter, not like you would.” I spit out the last words, bitter anger rising in my chest. “We weren’t good together, John, even when you were being kind to me. James knows everything already. You can’t scare me.”
But John is just shaking his head. A smirk unfolds across his face, and I find myself looking away and my stomach writhes uncomfortably.
“Don’t kid yourself, Rachael,” he says. His voice is low and soft, and for a moment I remember when he used to lean in close to my ear and speak softly to me because he knew how much I loved it.
“What are you talking about?” I snap, fighting to dispel the sudden image from my mind. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end and I have to suppress a shiver.
“James doesn’t know everything, does he?”
I blink at him, momentarily confused. What is he talking about? Is he just making vague and empty threats now? We were both in a relationship together, back in high school. It’s not like we have separate memories or accounts of what happened . . . well, then again, I take that back. More often than not, John is a delusional fool who creates these elaborate schemes in his head that he himself often believes.
But then the reality strikes me and the breath leaves my chest. I stare at him with wide eyes and my heart thumps wildly, so fast and intense that I can feel the blood pounding in my ears. I know what he’s talking about. How could I ever forget?
“Ah, so you remember,” John says with a sneer, taking in my reaction. He nods in approval.
“What do you want, John?” My voice is low and measured, my throat tight. “Why are you doing this?”
His teeth gleam in the sunlight as a wide grin stretches across his face, and suddenly all malice drops from his expression. He’s truly beaming at me now, as if I’ve made his day by relenting to his insistent attacks. The worst of him came out for just amount, emerging into light for just the briefest of glimpses to remind me why it was better that things ended when they did.
But now he’s back to normal, beaming at me like a young and enthusiastic boy. And for am moment my heart twists in my chest and I remember all the good times. I shake my head fiercely. What is wrong with me?
“I want to meet with you,” John says simply. I blink at him and gaze around us dumbly.
“We are meeting,” I say, raising a brow. “Right now. What more do you want?”
“I want to meet with you alone.” He steps forward and I fight the urge to back away. A hint of his cologne wafts on the breeze towards me.
I bite my lip, and his eyes dart down to my mouth. I immediately release my lip from the grip of my teeth, my cheeks coloring red. His gaze makes this strange heat wash over me and I suddenly don’t what to do or how to feel.
“Fine,” I say, just wanting to end the conversation. “I’ll meet with you. Alone. When?”
John didn’t answer. Instead he looked down and stuck a hand into his front pants’ pocket, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a slip of paper between his index and middle finger. He holds it out to me, and after a brief hesitation I reach forward and take it.
John nods to me, before stepping around me on the sidewalk and walking past me. His shoulders brushes up against me and I feel the heat radiating from his body.
I stand still on the sidewalk for a moment, before stuffing the slip of paper into my pocket and hurrying back inside. I fight to squash down my emotions and put on a happy face for Samantha and Lucy, but I suspect that I fail miserably. Sure enough, once I sit down at the table with my coffee they immediately begin shooting me strange looks.
“Are you alright?” Lucy pipes up. I cup my hot coffee cup in my hands, warming my skin. I glance up to find both her and Samantha staring at me. Samantha drops her eyes as soon as I look at her. Her mouth is set in a thin line and for a moment I wonder if she knows who John is, but how would she? I’d never told her, and I can’t imagine why James would have.
“I’m perfectly fine,” I say, a fake smile stretching across my face in a bright beam. “Why do you ask?”
“You just seem a little off, that’s all.” Lucy tries to smile back but I can tell it’s not true.
After a few awkward moments of silence, the conversation picks back up and we leave John behind. No one mentioned his name or what had happened, but I can tell that they saw him and know something strange is going on. I wonder briefly if they saw him hand me the slip of paper outside, but then I shake the thought from my head and decide not to dwell on it. There’s nothing that can be done about it now, and if they did see it there’s no use worrying myself sick about it.
I try my hardest to focus on the conversation, chiming in every so often to put my two cents in if I know what they’re talking about. But the harder I try, the more I seem to drift off into my own thoughts. I keep catching Lucy and Samantha looking at me with wide and worried eyes, though Samantha’s gaze holds something more sinister—like disapproval. I resolve to pull Samantha aside after our get together is over, but I don’t get the chance.
Once we’ve all finished our coffee, we get to our feet and continue to chatter as we walk out of the shop. Setting foot on the sidewalk again brings back memories of John, staring at me and bumping into me and handing me that paper. I push the image away and turn to Samantha, intending to pull her aside as Lucy went to her car.
But Samantha was already saying her goodbyes, and she scurried away as fast as possible. I raised my hand forlornly and called a farewell out after her.
She did not turn her head, and did not answer.
Chapter Seven
James
My phone rings shrilly, and surprises me so much that I nearly drop it on the ground.
I’m still watching TV. I’ve hardly moved since Rachael left this morning, and I can’t say I’m ashamed. It’s not often I get to lounge about and relax, especially not on a weekday.
I accept the call and put the phone to my ear. “Samantha?” I ask. “What’s up?”
“James.” Her voice sounds strained, worried. “Oh, d
amn,” she curses, and I hear what sounds like wind.
“Are you driving?” I ask. It’s a terrible habit of hers, talking while driving. I’ve tried to discourage it but she never listens.
“Yes,” she says, sounding distracted and absent-minded still. “Sorry. But I have something to tell you and I wanted to call before Rachael got home.”
I remember then, that she was at the gathering they had this morning at the coffee shop. What could she possibly need to tell me before Rachael got home? My heart drops in my chest, and I try not to think the worst.
“What’s going on?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm. “Is something wrong with Rachael?”
“No!” Samantha pauses. “Well, I’m not sure. I don’t think so. But I just thought you needed to know.”
“Needed to know what? C’mon, Sammy, just spit it out.”
“John was there.”
“What?”
“He was at the coffee shop. I think it was a coincidence. She looked shocked to see him and he looked a bit surprised himself. He tried to talk to her and she stormed outside. He chased after her, and then they talked on the sidewalk. It looked really tense James. I don’t know what they spoke about.”
My mind is working a mile a minute. I don’t what to think, what to say. I just know that John is not backing down and something is terribly wrong. I’d heard a lot about him and knew he was trouble, but I wasn’t anticipating him being this difficult. He’s barged into our life at the worst possible time.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say, my voice hoarse. I realize I’m standing now. I flip off the TV and start pacing my living room, mind racing. “Really, Sam. Thank you.”
“Are you going to tell Rachael I told you?” she asks. Her voice is nervous.
“No,” I decide. “I won’t. I know you had good intentions, and you didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I’m going to keep John away from Rachael.”
Samantha lets out a sigh of relief, and after a moment I say goodbye. We both hang up the phone and I’m left alone in my living room.
Rachael arrives home just a few minutes later, and I put on a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. She doesn’t seem to notice anything about me amiss, but she has that same distracted look on her face from the other day. She’s got John on the brain, and I don’t like it.
I go for a drive, telling her I’m gonna swing by the grocery store. Thankfully she doesn’t try to come along, and while I’m out of the house I make arrangements for a security detail. I dip heavily into my savings for this, but I could care less. This is important. I’m starting to get really bad vibes from John, and I can see this situation going badly very easily. I can’t risk that happening.
I get a bodyguard for Rachael specifically, as well as security for the house. I need someone watching Rachael at all times. It sounds crazy even in my own head, but I know that I’ll sleep better at night knowing that John isn’t stalking her every movement, waiting to pounce on her unawares. I hope that she’ll feel better about it as well, if she doesn’t think I’m completely insane.
Once I’m done making all the calls, I pick up a coffee and then return home. I run the conversation I’m about to have with Rachael over and over again in my mind, trying to figure out what sounds best. Finally, I decided I just need to be upfront and honest.
I tromp inside feeling like I’m about to vomit. I try to put a fake smile onto my face, but I’ve never been the best at acting.
“You’re back,” Rachael says, looking up from the kitchen table. She’s eating some lunch—a sandwich and some fruit. “Did you go for coffee?” Her eyes drop to the coffee cup still clenched in my hand. I set it down on the table and flex my fingers to loosen them up.
“I did,” I answer. My throat feels tight, and my voice sound scratchy to my own ears. She gives me a strange look, eyebrows raised, and I clear my throat with a violent cough.
“I’ve got to tell you something,” I say. I settle down into the chair across from her. Now her eyes are filled with worry. “I’m hiring a security detail.”
“Security?” she says, her voice surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Just some extra security for us,” I say with a shrug. “I just feel like we need it. It’ll put my mind at ease.”
Rachael looks back down at her plate and takes a bite. She doesn’t look at me as she chews slowly, instead gluing her eyes to the plate in front of her and holding the sandwich delicately in her fingertips.
“Are you fine with that?” I finally ask, breaking the silence that’s fallen over us like a blanket.
“Sure thing, James,” she says. She looks back at me and smiles. It seems she’s gotten back to her old self since I left. She’s always needed alone time to process her emotions, so I’m glad to see it’s worked.
“You don’t have any more questions for me?” I ask hesitantly.
She’s nearly finished her sandwich now, and doesn’t seem to want the rest of her fruit. She takes one last bite before standing up, plate in hand. She walks around the table and bends down to kiss my cheek.
“Nope,” she says cheerfully. “I know you, James. You’re a protective guy.”
She waltzes away to put her dishes in the sink, and I’m left feeling pleasantly surprised.
RACHAEL
A week passes by. It’s a hectic and busy week, and I’m almost relieved once James goes back to work because I feel like he’s constantly breathing down my neck. I need to be on my own and doing my own thing with all these wedding plans.
Speaking of which, the wedding is approaching at the speed of light. The next week passes and I find myself rushing around constantly to get my every last thing together. When we first got engaged we decided we wanted to get married as soon as possible, and now I’m paying for that decision dearly. But it will all be worth it in the end. I know it.
The wedding is one day away.
My family and friends are bustling around the house. It’s a Friday afternoon, and one look at the clock tells me James will be heading home soon. He told me he’d try to get out of work early, but I doubt that that has actually happened. He’s probably been kept a little late by some last minute meeting or a disgruntled customer. Either way, that will work in my favour.
“I’m gonna run out and get some coffee,” I say to my mother. She’s sitting on the couch and perusing over her to-do list for tomorrow. She’s already crossed multiple things off with red pen, but a plethora of unfinished business trails down the rest of the page.
“Oh, honey, don’t worry about that!” She looks up at me and a smile stretches across her face. “I can get someone to get it for you! You’re so busy.”
“No, no thanks,” I shake my head, anxiety rising in my chest. “I really appreciate it, but I kind of want to get out of the house for a bit.” I lower my voice and cast a meaningful look around the rest of the room, where people are talking loudly and bustling about. It’s a madhouse in here.
My mother purses her lips and narrows her eyes, but then nods. “Alright,” she says. “Go get some peace of mind. You can use my car. But hurry back! We’ve got a lot to do.”
I nod gratefully before grabbing her keys and escaping from the house. A few people stop me and ask me what I’m up to, but I manage to shake them off. I hop in my mother’s car and back out of the driveway, driving slowly down the road at first until I get used to the feel of the unfamiliar vehicle.
I pull out my phone, and I dial a number from my recent calls list.
“Hello?”
I suppress a shudder at the voice on the other end. The phone had rung for just two rings before being picked up immediately. I wish it had taken longer, to give me more time.
“Hello, John.”
The other end is silent for a moment.
“Rachael. You’ve left the house?”
I nod, before realizing that he can’t see me. “Yes. What’s the address?”
He gives me a street name and house number, and I hang up before he can
say anything else. I pull over to the side of the road and punch in the address he gave me, before getting back on the road.
He called me early this morning. It was an unfamiliar number. When I was young and foolish, a kid in college, I hated talking on the phone and so I never picked up unknown numbers. But since entering the real world I’ve learned that I have to do so, as it could be someone important. So despite the fact that it was 6 A.M. and the sun was barely over the horizon, I rolled out of bed, padded into the living room, and accepted the call.
It was John. My blood ran cold and I almost hung up immediately, but I needed to know what he had to say. I didn’t bother asking how he got my phone number, as I know he has his ways and he wouldn’t tell me anyways. He insisted I meet him in person today, and with dread in my heart I agreed. I needed to sort this out, once and for all.
I stop for a coffee, it makes me feel a little better about my lie, and I also need to slip my security detail. He’s been tailing me since I left the house, a few cars back. I go to a very popular local coffee shop and grab some coffee. My bodyguard doesn’t come in, but rather lurks in the parking lot, watching. I walk back out to my car when there are a lot of other vehicles in the lot, driving around slowly in hopes for a spot.
I take a deep breath behind my steering wheel. Then I put the car in reverse and speed out of the spot, nearly colliding with another car, who honks at me loudly. I peel out of the parking lot, cutting off a line of cars, and lose myself in the traffic. Five minutes later, when I chance a look in the rear mirror, my guard is nowhere in sight.
The drive to John’s home is relatively short. I pull up in front of a large house with a long stone driveway. I park and get out of the car with shaking legs and a thundering heart. By the time I get up to the front door, he’s already waiting in the doorway.
He opens the door for me and gestures me inside. I hesitate, before stepping over the threshold. I follow him into a large living room and settle down onto a comfortable, black leather couch.
