Page 54 of In Case You Didn't Know

“Thank you.” I believe him. There’s a silence, then I see a flashing light in the corner of the room. “Can you see me?”

“Yes,” he murmurs. “You look anxious.”

“That’s because you’re looking at me.”

“Are you really okay?” he asks. His voice is so soft I feel like it’s wrapping around me.

“I’m not sure,” I murmur. “Is the rest of the lighthouse okay?”

“It’s fine.” There’s a pause. “He’s not your boyfriend, is he?”

“No,” I admit. “I made that up to get you and Myles off my back.” There’s no point in hiding it now. Especially since he went to all this trouble to check on me. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you had to.” He takes a breath. “He looked like a dick.”

I start to laugh. “He was. Those shoes…”

“Can you believe people wear them and still think they’re gonna get laid?” he asks.

“Nope. I’m going to have nightmares about them tonight. Who wants to see toes like that?”

It’s Asher’s turn to laugh. “You’re all clear. Alone. Safe.”

I turn to look at the camera, knowing he’s looking right back at me. It’s weird, not being able to see him back. Yet there’s still this weird sense of peace washing over me. “Thank you,” I tell him, staring right at the lens.

He clears his throat. “You’re welcome. And by the way, I just got notification that your ex-date is on the ferry.”

“I thought he was staying at the hotel,” I say, confused.

“He was. But I wanted him off the island. Away from you. I told him to head to the ferry and his things would follow. I thought you’d feel better with him gone.”

My mouth drops open. That’s weirdly sweet. In a stalker kind of way. “Did you really quote Liam Neeson?” I ask him. A wave of warmth washes over me.

“I didn’t really quote. Just said something similar. I can’t remember the exact words. I was a little…” he trails off like he’s finding the right word. “Annoyedwith him.”

And I’m a little turned on. More than a little, if I’m being honest.

There’s a silence. It’s not awkward, more charged than anything. Like the space between lightning and thunder.

“I should go,” I murmur, though I make no move toward the guest bedroom.

“Yeah,” he says, but he doesn’t hang up.

I stare at the blinking light above the camera. “Are you still looking at me?”

There’s a beat of nothing.

“I haven’t stopped.”

Something flutters low in my belly. Stupid, traitorous thing.

“Goodnight, Francie,” he says, his voice a tad rougher. “I’m going to turn the cameras off, okay? But call me if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“I will,” I whisper. “Goodnight.” Though I’m pretty sure I won’t be sleeping.

The flickering light stops right as I end the call, the screen going dark in my hand. But the warmth doesn’t fade. Nor does the aching need deep inside of me.

And later, after I’ve showered and checked that all the cameras are indeed off, when I reach for my toy and press it against me, I don’t even try to pretend it’s not his name on my lips.