Page 57 of Killer Confections

Eat. I have some business to take care of, but I’ll see you soon, baby. — Your future husband ;)

I crumble it, my rage becoming palpable as I toss the paper right into the trash.

First things first.

I thought I was imagining things when I first noticed the blinking light in my kitchen. I convinced myself I was tired from spending late nights at the bakery, but now I know better.

I walk over to my cookie jars lined near the corner of my kitchen and scoot them aside. It takes me a minute to find it, but when I spot a small black lens, I swipe the micro-camera up before holding it up to my face.

“Caught you,” I grit before slamming it down on the counter until it breaks into little pieces. When I’m satisfied, I grab the trash can and scoop its remains into the bin. I slam it down, putting my hands on my hips as I gloat.

My phone dings and I go to my room to retrieve it. The new message flashes on the screen and I unlock it.

My Stalker

Me: Bite me.

My Stalker

Ugh! Fuck this! Who does he think he is?

Me: Fuck you! And bring my body wash back!

My Stalker

HE’S USING MY SOAP FOR LUBE?! ARE YOU SHITTING ME?!

Me: STOP DEFILING MY SOAP AND GIVE IT BACK!

My stalker

Me: Eat a bag of dicks.

I grumble when I receive no response, then catch myself when I realize the feeling circling my gut is disappointment.

No! I’m not disappointed he won’t answer back. I’m normal. Calm and collected.

My ringtone jolts me right out of my ease and I answer without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Addison replies in bright surprise. “It’s your day off. What are you doing awake so early?”

I plop down on my bed, running a hand over my face. “Why are you calling so early?”

She laughs, “Touche. I just wanted to check in. I’m almost done packing. Is your stalker still on the down-low?”

My face heats, images of last night’s activities flashing through my mind. I’ve been so distracted I didn’t have the opportunity to tell my closest friend that the man stalking me is potentially the man I’ve been obsessed with since high school or that he ruined my date last night and did naughty, unspeakable things to me. Or that he cornered me in my own bakery…

“Lox?” She questions, snapping me out of my trance.

I groan, “It’s so bad, Addie.”

She gasps, rustling the phone around before her voice gets close to the speaker. “What happened?”

I delve into it all, telling my friend the PG-13 version of the night in the bakery, and last night. She’s quiet on the other line, only her subtle gasps being heard when I go quiet during a particularly dirty detail.

“He tied you up?” She asks, sounding utterly invested. “What did he do? You can’t just give me half of the story!”