Page 168 of The Bodyguard

Jack gave me a look.

Wilbur continued. “‘He could never love you the way I love you,’ I said.”

“He doesn’t know the first thing about love.”

Jack coughed.

“‘He’s not going to build you a birdhouse from scratch with little working shutters and hand-painted camelia flowers!’ No contest, right?”

“No contest,” I confirmed. “Jack Stapleton’s never built a birdhouse in his life.”

Jack flared his nostrils at me, like Settle down.

Wilbur fell silent for a minute.

Should I try to get his weapon?

Then Wilbur went on. “But she left. She left anyway. She took the birdhouse with her. She won’t take my calls. She won’t answer my texts.”

“How long has it been, Wilbur?”

“A month.”

A month was a long time. Long enough to totally upend your life. I could attest.

“Things are going to get better, Wilbur,” I said then. “Things get better, and then things get worse, and then things get better again. That’s the rhythm of life. That’s how it is for everyone.”

But Wilbur was into telling his story now. “Then I saw he was right here in town,” Wilbur went on. “And I thought I’d come find him. See if she might be here, too.”

“She’s not,” Jack said, just to confirm.

“But then I saw the picture of Jack smooching his new girlfriend. I mean, really going at it. Like, ‘Get a room!’ You saw that picture—amirite?”

“We saw it,” Jack and I said, in unison.

“And I thought,” Wilbur went on, “I’ve gotta put a stop to that.”

“Why was that again, Wilbur?” I asked.

Wilbur frowned at me, like it was so obvious. “So it wouldn’t hurt Lacey’s feelings.”

“You threatened to kill Jack’s new girlfriend to free him up so your wife could have him?”

Wilbur nodded, looking proud. “The things we do for love, right?”

“Nope. That’s not—” I started.

“The death threats were you?” Jack asked then. “We thought it was a middle-aged corgi breeder.”

Wilbur tapped his head with the gun to gesture at his brains. “I copied her style. To throw everybody off.”

“It worked,” Jack said.

But Wilbur kept going. “Only I didn’t want to kill the girlfriend. Just scare her so bad she’d leave him.”

“Just terrorize her into ending the relationship,” I offered.

“Exactly,” Wilbur said. “But it didn’t work. And now I’m a mess. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’m so alone all the time. And I just… can’t take it anymore.”