I expected Audrey to stop me, but she just waved. “See you later, Kitty-Cat.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE HIM

Sweat popped along my hairline when she started the recording, and I was certain that she would recognize my voice. I felt exposed, as if I’d been turned inside out and my organs were on display. I waited for her to turn to me with her mouth a perfect O of horror and point at my misshapen, bloody heart as it beat vulnerably before me. Oh my God, she would say, recoiling. That’s you.

But it never happened. She never recognized my voice. She had no idea that I was the one in the room with her that night. It was almost a shame because not knowing I was there meant not knowing what I did. And I was sure that if she knew what I did for her, that expression of horror would fade from her delicate face, and it would be replaced by one of gratitude. She would thank me profusely, and for the rest of our lives, she would know exactly how much I loved her.

That night, after I had deposited the box with the meticulously snipped flowers on her doorstep, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from peering through her windows. I hadn’t been cautious enough at first, and she’d chased me from the alley. I’d stood on the other side of the gate, heart pounding, listening to determine whether she would explore the alley or return to her apartment. I should have gone then, but I was still buzzing with fury and wondered if she’d encountered the flowers. I reasoned that I couldn’t walk away now, not without knowing what she thought about them, and so, with my baseball cap pulled down low, I carefully, quietly snuck back to her window.

I sagged with disappointment to see her lounging quietly in her bed. She hadn’t seen the flowers. But still I kept watching, her heart-shaped face beckoning to me like a siren. Slowly the electricity in my veins fizzled and dissipated, leaving me calm, content.

And then I saw her shake a pill from an orange prescription bottle and wash it down with that glass of wine she’d been refilling all night. Instantly, I was on alert. From my vantage point, I couldn’t see the label on the bottle or the shape of the pill, but I knew Audrey took both Xanax and Ambien, neither of which should be mixed with alcohol. She’d just recklessly put herself in mortal danger, and she needed someone to watch over her, someone to stand sentry. I was her only option. I would be her savior. I had to be.

So I watched.

I watched even as cramps developed in my legs and my limbs grew cold. I would suffer through personal discomfort to protect her. I would do anything for her.

I squinted into her bedroom, realizing it had been a while since I had seen her move. She was resting on her back in the center of her messy bed, her body twisted in the tangled sheets. She looked beautiful, peaceful. But did she look too peaceful? And weren’t overdose risks not supposed to sleep on their backs? I leaned closer to the window, searching for confirmation that her chest was moving. It was impossible to tell.