Before I could quip something snarky, her phone buzzed. I steered us toward the toilet paper—that was one disaster I'd never let happen again—while she poked at her phone. When she didn't catch up with me, I glanced back to find her standing in the middle of the aisle, frowning.
“Stella?” I sang.
She startled, looked up, and her face cleared. She started to walk again as she tucked her phone into her back pocket with a confused expression.
“Everything all right?” I asked.
“Fine.”
But the lines remained in her forehead as I grabbed eggs and milk and too much bacon. Her phone must have buzzed again, because she pulled it back out of her pocket, frowned, and pushed her lips to one side as if putting together a mental puzzle.
“Do you need to make a call? You might have to go outside. The reception in here kind of sucks.”
As if in a daze, she looked at the cart. “No,” she said slowly. “I just have two more things to get. I—”
Her phone vibrated in her hand. The dark expression on her face deepened. For some reason, it reminded me of Hearts on Fire and how I hadn't logged in today.
“Stell?”
“Tampons,” she murmured as she tapped away on her screen. “I just need tampons and girly pain relievers. Then I'm done.”
“Regular or super?”
That totally should have been a weird question, but wasn't. Either her distraction was too great to be embarrassed, or Megan had trained me way too well.
“Regular.”
“Long-lasting girly pain relievers or regular?”
“Long-lasting.”
She bit her bottom lip as the phone buzzed again. Something definitely was up. “Go make your call,” I said. “I'll grab your lady things and meet you outside.”
She spun and headed down the aisle without taking her gaze off her phone. She must have been distracted or else I had a feeling she would have protested me paying for her organic blueberries.
Not to mention her tampons.
7 Stella Marie
My heart pounded as I sped walked to the front of the store, vaguely aware of mumbling something to Mark before disappearing. The incoming text message occupied most of my brainpower.
Unknown Number: How long is your retreat? I just heard from HR that you submitted resignation papers. That's not a retreat, my love.
My heart sped up. No, this couldn't be Joshua. How would he have found my number? I'd only been gone twelve days. At first, I'd lied to him, said I went to Canada on a big retreat with a friend. A few days after I’d gotten the apartment off my hands and left, I’d submitted my official resignation.
My stomach felt cold as I stopped near a cracker display and typed out a response.
Stella Marie: Sorry, you have the wrong number.
His response came seconds later.
Unknown Number: We both know that I don't. What's going on, Stella love?
My stomach twisted as if a knife had entered it.
I tried to remember Joshua. To picture him outside the small world I knew. To me, Joshua had been a supervisor. Surrounded by cubicles, people, and stress. Maybe not entirely trusted by most of us, but extremely good at what he did. Tall, charismatic, and perfectly aware of the power of his smile. He'd inspired more uncertainty than awe in me from the beginning, unlike other accountants in the firm who adored him, but even that hadn't been enough to keep me safe from his natural lure.
There was something drawing about him.
Until there wasn't.
It didn't seem entirely unreasonable that he'd be upset with me once I left and he realized I wasn't coming back. Didn't seem unreasonable that he'd be furious and try to reach out. To my old number, maybe.
But how did he get my new number?
For a moment, the world seemed to swirl around me as all the implications settled down. Did he know where I was? Was I safe? Was Mark safe?
Just in case, I turned my phone on silent and closed my eyes. Now, the store felt too warm, smelled too much like slush and dirt and metallic carts. By the time I hurried outside, I was afraid I'd crash. But I didn't. I stepped into the cool air and drew in a deep lungful. It centered me. Calmed my racing heart. My vision cleared.
This is part of the plan, and that's good, I thought. If grandma taught me anything, it was that belief was power. Whatever I told myself would probably come true. So always tell yourself good things, Stella Marie, came her chiding, loving tone.
My breath puffed out in front of me while I headed back to the Zombie Mobile to get my bearings. While my mind raced, my body had calmed. Several things worked to my advantage here. Anonymity, for one. I was Stella here. No, Mark had been calling me Stella Marie. I'd go to just Stella. Sacrilege in Grandma’s eyes, but this situation called for what she'd jokingly call extreme measures.
Second, Joshua had friends in high places. He may have pulled some strings at a phone company or something. I wouldn't put it beyond him. But that didn't mean he knew I was here, in the middle of the mountains.
Just when I'd gotten ahold of my thoughts and realized I'd actually asked Mark to grab tampons, my phone buzzed again. Frustrated, I glanced back down to see a different name this time.
Tatum: Some guy named Joshua called me this morning—didn't know it was your birthday! Happy birthday!
I had to read the message four times before my brain comprehended it. Tatum was my oldest client. He ran a used bookstore on the other side of the country and always struggled with moving inventory. My birthday? Just as I moved to reply, a second message came from a different number.
Antoine: Is everything okay? Just got a message from a guy named Joshua. He claimed to be your assistant. Had some weird questions for me, so I wanted to check in before I answered any of them.
My hands shook now, and not from the cool autumn air. Somewhere in the distance, a truck roared by, splashing slush onto the sidewalk in front
