Chapter 14

Stella

I wake up thinking of Michael. There’s a smile on my face even before my eyes fully open. I know it’s probably impossible, but from the way my cheeks ache, I think it’s been there a while.

A contented sigh escapes my lips as I roll onto my back, half expecting the punctual doctor to already be awake and looking at me.

The smile fades when I see his side of the bed, empty.

I’m more than a little disappointed. My dreams last night were a bit rough, and I could really use some attention right now.

I know I’m an adult, but I still require a good snuggle after having bad dreams.

After the ones last night, I could use more than a snuggle.

It seems silly in the light of day, but I still can’t get the image out of my head. The dark outline of a man, standing at the foot of the bed, watching me sleep.

It sends a shiver down my spine despite the warm room.

Enough of that.

I throw the blankets aside, exposing my naked body to the morning air. Nudity really has become my calling card as of late.

Will have to try harder to fix that...or not.

I skip over to the closet. Thoughts of bad dreams and absentee doctors slip easily from my mind. Who has time to think about those things when they’ve got a closet full of brand new designer clothes, right?

I grab a Gucci dress. It’s a little fancy for a day around the house, but it’s made from the softest fabric I’ve ever felt. Red silk falls around me in waves as I slip it on, taking a moment to thank the powers that be that Michael didn’t manage to get his hands on it.

Had he torn this one, heads would have rolled.

Or so I like to think.

In reality, I probably still would have wound up on my knees in front of him.

The man really is impossible to stay mad at.

I make my way to the window to check the driveway. As I suspected, his car is gone.

I don’t spend long wondering where he is. Instead, I decide to take the opportunity to get...better acquainted with my man.

I mean, come on. Leaving me here alone like this is practically an invitation to snoop. What kind of mail-order bride would I be if I neglected his invitations?

Feeling thoroughly justified, I head to the dresser.

It’s a massive hulking thing, probably made out of the kind of tree that’s now extinct. The surface is so glossy I can practically see my reflection. It occurs to me that I don’t know if he does his own cleaning.

Probably. I can hardly imagine him letting a stranger into his house.

I start at the top and work my way down.

Socks, underwear, shorts.

Boring!

Until I reach a drawer on the bottom, that is. It slides open easily, as did the others. I’m thrilled to see its contents are something other than clothing for a change.

Inside sits a small wooden box, more polished than even the dresser.

I lift the lid, fully expecting to find some porn or maybe even a gun.

Instead, I find myself gazing at a stack of paper.

Taking the top sheet, I scan quickly over its contents.

Discharge papers? Like…military?

I’m not sure why he wouldn’t have mentioned it. Frankly, I’m fucking impressed.

Apparently, the good doctor is more than meets the eye.

I scan the page again, locking onto the highlights.

Medic, honorable discharge, acts of valor...

Definitely seems like the kind of thing someone would brag about. But not Michael, of course.

I set the page aside, digging deeper into the stack.

More military forms, different commendations, that sort of thing. At the bottom of the box, though, sits a stack of photos.

One of Michael in his lab coat, standing beside a smiling child.

Another of him in the same getup beside a clearly overjoyed old woman.

Him and a zit-faced teenager, him and a little girl…On and on.

Scrawled across the backs are names and dates:

Eddie Prince- 01/16/17

Ruby Smith-04/02/15

Jane O’Neil- 03/19/12

There are dozens.

It occurs to me about halfway through the pile that I’m looking at people whose lives he’s saved.

I smile broadly.

Here I thought I was gonna find porn.

I put everything back, putting extra effort into remembering the right order. If I were him, I might shout these things from the rooftops, but he clearly has them hidden for a reason. No need for him to know I’ve been here.

I close the drawer and look around for something else to discover.

Hell, it’s a big house, and it looks like I have some time on my hands.

I poke around his office next, thoroughly inspecting his massive oak desk, relaxing in his leather chair. Then, I move to the closets, the attic...

I bypass the bathrooms, having already been in them just days ago.

I go through room after room, each more disappointing than the next.

Hours go by before I give up, having found nothing even remotely interesting since the wooden box.

I miss Michael, I’m bored, and I still have no idea where he is.

He could have at least left a note.

I half expected to find one during my little exploration, but after covering most of the house, I’m sure there’s none.

Asshole, I think, trying to feel mad.

Really though, I’m not.

After being away from him all day, what I feel the most is loneliness. It’s crazy how fast I’ve gotten used to having him around.

As a matter of fact, I’m starting to worry.

I know I haven’t known him long, but this seems a bit out of character. Where could he have gone so quickly that he couldn’t even leave a note?

I walk out to the living room and start to pace.

Now that the sun is setting, I can’t help thinking of my dreams from last night.

They’re on a loop in my head: the man at the end of the bed, the eerily stillness while he watched me.

I feel a shiver race down my spine.

I feel eyes on me.

I’m too old for this shit, and I know it. Dreams are just dreams.

From down the hall, I hear the front door open.

Finally!

Still, I can’t shake the chills, the feeling of eyes running over me.

I walk to the door, the distance now seeming impossibly far. I tell myself to stop being silly, to go and throw myself into Michael’s arms.

When I finally get to the door though, there’s no one there.

It’s standing open, cold air rushing to meet me. But no Michael.

I poke my head outside, sweeping my eyes across the expanse of the yard. Nothing. No one.

I bite back the fear rising in me.

This is getting ridiculous.

I’m an adult. I am not afraid of the fucking wind. I slam the door shut and engage the deadbolt.

There. Now it can’t blow open again.

I let the pointless fear fade away as I walk back down the hall. I really am just being silly.

By the time I reach the living room, I’m already laughing at myself.

Like, what could it possibly have been, a home invader or something? Please. That’s ridiculous.

Almost as ridiculous as being kidnapped by the Russian mafia and sold off as a mail-order bride.