“I would die if something happened to you because of me,” I whisper my biggest fear and then do a face plant into his shirt.
“Baby,” he says, running his hand down my back. “The worst thing that could happen is if you left me and I had no way of knowing that you were okay. I won’t let anything happen to you and I will make sure that nothing happens to me either. Do you think I would let something happen to myself, knowing that there are about six guys that I know waiting to take my place?”
“You know you’re crazy, right?” I ask in all seriousness. Only he would say one of the reasons he was staying safe is so random, non-existent guys don’t try to take me away.
“No, I’m selfish. I know what sleeps next to me every night. You are mine, November. Until the day you leave this earth, you are mine. And I take my responsibility very seriously.” What could I say to that? Before I say anything, his dad comes in the front door carrying a notebook and a file.
“Alright, let’s get started,” Mr. Mayson says, setting his stuff down on the island and pulling out the stool to take a seat. Asher kisses my forehead then jumps up next to me on the counter, grabbing my hand.
I tell them about the delivery then about the attack. Then I remember the roses that had been outside the apartment door when I got home from the hospital in New York. I had never gotten flowers before, and my mom would get them all the time from whatever man she was seeing, so I assumed they were for her. I took them into the apartment and left them on the counter. I never even thought about them again until that moment.
“White roses,” I whisper to myself.
“Pardon?” Mr. Mayson asks.
“White roses were left outside my apartment door after I was attacked. I thought they were for my mom but I guess maybe they weren’t.”
“Why do you say that?” Mr. Mayson asks, and I remember my mom’s shocked face when she opened the card.
“The card said ‘I’m sorry.’ We both assumed they were from the guy she was seeing, the one that took me to the hospital. That he was sorry for what happened to me. But I remember she seemed shocked by the apology. Like he wouldn’t write something like that, you know? That he wouldn’t apologize. When I was packing my car later that evening, the same boyfriend who I thought the flowers were from stopped by to drop off Beast. He had kept him while I was in the hospital. He didn’t want him to end up at the shelter. He made me pinky promise that if I was going to give Beast away, he got first dibs. I remember thinking that he was a really good guy and hoping that it would work out for him and my mom. He hugged me then got in his car and left. I figured he was just busy. I left a few minutes after he did, so I’m not sure what happened with him and my mom.”
“I’m gonna need your mom’s number, and the contact information for the detective in New York who was working on your case,” Mr. Mayson says, and I nod my head in agreement.
“I have a friend who’s been looking into things,” Asher says, and I look over at him. I never knew this. We talked about what happened to me, but he never told me anything about someone looking into it.
“You do?” I ask, wondering when he had asked someone to check on it.
“Yeah.” That was all he said while pulling me closer so he could kiss my forehead.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “When were you going to tell me about that?”
“Right now.”
“Don’t you think that I should know about things like that?”
“You know now.” I narrow my eyes and he brings my hand to his mouth, kissing my fingers that are wrapped around his. “Nothing has happened in the last few months. We weren’t even sure if the break in had anything to do with what happened in New York.”
That’s a good point. We didn’t know anything. I don’t even know why I cared. I was grateful that he was looking into it.
“Have they come up with anything?” I ask, hoping that some detective was using his skills so I didn’t have to live my days worried about my life being in danger, or worse, having Asher or either of our families in danger.
“Nothing new. They think it was an isolated incident.”
“So, do they have any idea why this is happening?”
“No, baby.”
“Do you think someone is stalking me?” I ask, looking at Asher then his dad.
“I’m not sure what’s going on. And before I jump to any conclusions, I need to talk to the florist who delivered the flowers and ask about the person who placed the order. Then I need to contact your mother and find out what she remembers from the night of your attack. I also need to contact the officer who was handling your case and see if there are any cases similar to yours,” Mr. Mayson explains.