Page 46

“You and me both.”

“Sam, I mean it. Be careful. Men like Garrett don’t handle rejection well, and you’ve rejected him very publicly.”

“I know.”

“Do you have security cameras?”

“No, but…”

“Get them. Today. And maybe…” She paused. “Is there someone who could stay with you? Just until we get the restraining order?”

I looked through the window where Tyson was hauling armfuls of roses to the garbage, his movements efficient and angry.

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Do it. I’ll call you after I file.”

I hung up and went outside to help with the rose cleanup. Tyson had commandeered a wheelbarrow from somewhere and was dumping flowers in with prejudice.

“This is insane,” he muttered. “Who does this?”

“Someone who’s never been told no.”

“Has he always been like this?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” I gathered an armful of roses, thorns pricking through my shirt. “He was charming when we met. Romantic but not stalkerish. Somewhere along the way the line blurred.”

“Fucking asshole.”

We worked in silence for a while, the roses seemingly multiplying every time I looked. Tom, from two blocks down, slowed his morning jog to a walk, then a stop.

“Morning, Sam!” he called out. “Someone’s birthday?”

“Something like that,” I called back.

“Lucky girl!” He said as he ran away.

Tyson snorted. “Yeah. Real lucky. Nothing says ‘I respect your boundaries’ like five hundred stalker roses.”

“Six hundred,” Hank called from my roof. “I counted while you were discarding them. Six hundred and forty-three, specifically.”

“You counted?”

“I was curious. That’s probably three grand worth of flowers. Minimum.”

“Fantastic. He spent three thousand dollars to remind me why I left him.”

The cleanup took half an hour. By the end, my garbage cans were overflowing with red roses, the wheelbarrow was full, and we’d had to start a pile by the curb. The whole street smelled like a funeral home.

“I need cameras,” I said as we surveyed the damage. “Rachel says security system, today.”

“I know a guy. He can be here this afternoon.”

“Of course you know a guy.”

“I know all the guys. It’s a small town.” He pulled out his phone. “What else did your lawyer say?”

“That men like Garrett don’t handle rejection well. That I should maybe have someone…” I trailed off, embarrassed. “Never mind.”