It’s new. And we’re not dating. He came up last weekend to check on me, since he was worried I might not be okay after that whole thing in Tacoma. I’m totally fine, so don’t worry. But he ended up staying through the weekend, and we kissed. Now we’re kind of “seeing where things go”.
Annaliese replies immediately.
Seeing where things go? What does that mean?
I head back into the bedroom while I type.
I’m not sure. He’s not looking for anything serious. And neither am I. But I like him. So… I don’t know. We’re going to spend more time together and see what happens.
The three dots blink on and off for a few seconds.
Guys say that all the time, Yara. About not wanting anything serious. But if he came last weekend because he was worried, and he’s coming this weekend, too… That sounds pretty serious to me.
A beat, and then another message.
What are you wearing? Please tell me it’s not those God-awful sweats.
Laughing, I snap a picture of my new outfit laid out on the bed.
My sweats aren’t that bad. But no, I thought I’d wear these. Too dressy?
Her response is immediate.
No! Don’t you dare chicken out. That color is gorgeous and are those designer jeans I see? I need a photo of you wearing them. And a photo of this Ace.
Setting the phone down, I quickly change into the new outfit, then snap a photo of myself in the closet mirror.
Okay. What do you think?
Her first response is just a string of heart-eyed emojis, followed by an actual message.
You look hot, Yara. Do not change before he gets there. I mean it.
Some of the anxiety I’ve been carrying about the night dissolves. Annaliese dates a lot more often than I do—well, since I never date, that’s not a high bar to set, but she goes out on at least a few dates a month—and she’s always been the more fashionable one of us. So if she thinks I look good, I’m going to take her word for it.
I’m halfway through typing my response when I get a notification that someone’s at my front door. Stupidly, my heart leaps, even though I know there’s no possible way Ace could be here already.
As I open the security app, I sort through the options of who it could reasonably be. One of my neighbors, possibly, with some misdelivered mail or a request for donations for one of the many fundraisers that pop up this time of year. It could be food delivery intended for the house next door, which seems to happen at least once a month or so. But beyond that, I can’t imagine who would stop by for an unannounced visit.
Aside from Ace, that is. But none of my acquaintances from work would. We stick with coffee runs and the occasional lunch out, but that’s it. So who could it be?
Once the video loads, I’m still not sure of the answer. The man appears to be in his mid-thirties, with a knit hat covering his hair and his winter coat pulled high around his neck. His posture is straight, almost rigidly so, reminding me of many of the guys I know from the Army. But this guy… his face looks oddly familiar, but I can’t seem to place it.
The warning Ace left me with last Sunday immediately comes to mind. “I know you can take care of yourself,” he told me, “but be careful, okay? Winthrop might be on house arrest, but that’s not a guarantee. And he has money, so he could pay someone to do his dirty work. I’m not saying he will. But he might. And I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
As much as I don’t want to think that Winthrop could send someone after me in an act of retribution, it would be stupid of me not to at least consider it. So I tap the microphone button in the app and say, “Hang on. I’ll be right there.”
Then I switch over to the facial recognition software I have linked to the doorbell in hopes of finding out my visitor’s identity. After all, it would be easy enough for the man to lie about his intentions, but if I know definitely who he is…
Less than thirty seconds later I have my answer.
Davis Kellogg.
Sergeant First Class Kellogg, formerly of the U.S. Army.
And now that I know his name, I remember exactly how I know him.
He doesn’t look quite the same as he did three years ago. His features are more gaunt, and he’s lost some weight. His beard is salt-and-pepper, rather than the dark brown it used to be. There are new lines around his eyes and across his forehead.