“I don’t suppose you know who this is from?”
“Miss, I do but I was told not to say.”
“Huh.”
“Now if you would excuse me I must go.”
“Wait,” I shout. “You can’t just walk off, please tell me who is sending me these gifts.”
“I can’t miss, I would get sacked.”
“Just one clue please Sir.” The man turns and walks over, “Miss there will be a lot more of this, every day in fact, I have been given a load of boxes, little bags flowers, chocolates that sort of stuff and I have to deliver one to you each day. In time, sooner than you think he will reveal himself to you.”
“What,” I choke out, “But why?”
“Isn’t it clear Miss, he loves you.”
With that, the man is gone. I go back into the house. I take a seat in the living room and try to wrap my head around all this. Why was someone going to all this trouble? Why was I the recipient of these gestures? I try to compose myself as I hold the little red bag. I look inside and there are two little boxes. A black one and the other, is white with a love heart on the front. I open up the first box and what I find is a key. Not to a house but it looks like a key to a car. I lift out the key to have a closer look and there written on the other side are the words (Lamborghini). I quickly close the box and open the other one. I find a circular black diamond pendent hanging from a white gold diamond chain. I smile at the sight of the necklace but wonder about the car keys. It is an expensive luxury car and I could not imagine anyone giving one away as a gift, I rack my brain but there is no answer to why. I lift up the keys again and gaze at them, I have the key to Lamborghini, but the car is nowhere in sight.
Who is he? I wonder as I sip coffee, when it was just a few bouquets of flowers and pair of earrings, I was so sure that it was Marco. He was the only person I thought at the time, who could possibly be doing this. Somehow, now I do not feel as if there is any chance at all that it is Marco. He does not own a Lamborghini actually; I know that he does not even like them. The time and effort in which has been put into this whole thing speaks for itself. I have never known Marco to plan anything in life, let alone care enough about someone to go to all this trouble. I cannot lie and say that I am not a little worried about this. Although, it seems like a sweet thing that someone cares enough to send me all these little gifts and beautiful flowers. Out there, somewhere is the man that is doing this. How do I know that he is not a stalker? How do I know that he does not watch my house every night? Am I sure that this man is not dangerous? It all seems a little obsessive to me. However, I would be lying if I said I was not intrigued. An hour or so later, I am cooking dinner and I am feeling a little uneasy being in the house alone. Therefore, I have locked all the doors just in case. When Sophie comes home to find all the doors locked, I see that she is rather worried; I try my best not to let her see the fear that is inside me. So instead, I make her believe that my dad heard there was some weirdo on the loose and has insisted that I keep all my doors locked, all of the time. After all Sophie was a little judgmental yesterday when I was talking to her about Adrian Black, I really hate to think what she would make of all this. I have decided not to say anything to her. Whatever gifts I receive from now on, I will hide them up the stairs in an old shoebox under my bed. The only thing I will have to worry about is if Sophie answers the door to the deliveryman. If that does happen I will have to concoct a story so perfect that she simply has no doubts.
“Dinner smells good,”
“Yeah it will be ready in ten minutes.”
“I just had the most stressful day.” Sophie says holding her head in her hands. “What happened?” I say.
“I had to go back over to Columbia today to pick up my revised schedule.”
“Yes.”
“On my way out of the office I ran into Chelsea.”
“Never,”
“Yes it was the most painful conversation I think I have ever had in my entire life.”
“What did she say?” I ask.
“Just saying she was sorry, she never meant to hurt me, but she loves Chace and she wishes that we could put all this behind us and try to move on.”
“The cheek what does she thinks she is?”
“I know but the worst thing is almost felt sorry for her.”
"How could you possibly feel sorry for her?”
“I just felt as if maybe she really didn’t mean to hurt me, maybe she and Chace are meant to be together and that I maybe have a different path to follow.”
“Sophie,” I begin to say but stop myself.
Is Sophie actually moving on from Chace? Has she finally come to terms with what happened?