The Watcher

The Watcher
NICOLE 

I'm still sipping on my frosted latte when we enter the jewelry store where our custom wedding bands will be made. 

This store is out of this world! I've never seen bigger diamonds in all my life, and deep down, I already know that whatever we've come to do here will cost a fortune. 

"Roman," I whisper to him, feeling painfully out of place in my outfit, "are you sure about this?"

"Of course, baby," he says right back before flashing me a radiant smile. He then throws his arm over my shoulder and pulls me closer to his side. "Don't worry about a thing, alright? Have I ever given you a reason to doubt anything?"

I joke, "Is this satire?"

Before Roman can respond, one of the employees approaches and welcomes us into their store. When she takes a good look at Roman's face, I notice that her eyes widen and she puts her hands together. "Mr. Hayes...it's such a pleasure to meet you! What can I do for you?"

Roman explains that he wants custom rings made for us both, and she calls the jeweler, who's also the owner of the store. We're shown all sorts of designs, and everything looks amazing. I almost hate myself for not understanding much about design and jewelry. 

The jeweler catches up to this, though, and explains in simpler terms. Then, it becomes easier for me to figure out which of the options are my favorite. Roman lets me take the lead, and soon, excitement zips down my spine and I feel a lot more confident. 

"What about engravings?" he asks. "Would you like for something to be written inside the rings?"

Roman and I exchange a look. I look at the jeweler and say, "On his, I want the engraving 'Forever Your Nikki'."

As soon as I say the words, I feel stupid. I don't know. Maybe something more meaningful should be written on it. A quote. Something more significant. But Roman takes my hand in his and kisses my knuckles.

"It's perfect," he says. 

"Will that be all?"

He nods, and then we move on to the next step—the price. 

The number that leaves the jeweler's mouth almost makes me choke on my latte. I try to keep it cool as I steal a glance at Roman, but he's already nodding and offering to make the full payment now. I sip on more coffee so I don't blurt something embarrassing. 

Our measurements are taken, and then we're off. As soon as we leave the store, I ask him, "Roman...eighty thousand dollars!? For two rings?"

"Pretty tame, if you ask me," he answers before throwing an arm around me. "I want you to have the best of the best, Nikki. I wish you'd let me spoil you a lot more."

"I do let you spoil me."

"We both know that's not true. What happened to that card I gave you?"

It's been so long since I last used it that I have no idea where it could be. I only ever bought the new phone with it. Roman gives me a look and my face flushes. "Okay, fine. Maybe I just don't like spending money I didn't work for."

"What's mine is yours, Nikki."

I sip on my coffee so I don't have to say anything that might ruin the moment for us. I can hear it in his voice that he's somehow upset, and I guess he has every right to be. 

We go on walking along the mall, just looking around. The subject has changed swiftly from the spending habits I don't have to what we're going to do about the honeymoon we never had. "With Angus working me to death the way he is, I don't know when I'll ever catch a break."

Roman is silent for a few beats as we head toward the exit. We're heading to a restaurant next. A place he knows well. "Don't you ever wish we could just...I don't fucking know, Nikki. Just be ourselves again?"

I know what he means. Ever since Angus walked into my life, I haven't felt like myself at all, and I suppose he means going back to the Roman he used to be. Intelligent, ambitious. Normal. "Yeah."

Roman is silent for a few beats before saying, "I've been thinking about this a lot recently, you know? I've always wanted to be someone. To be in the spotlight and be adored and admired by many people. Now, I know that this comes at a price. I lost my identity, but you gave it right back to me."

"I did?"

We reach the parking lot and stop right next to his car. We face each other and his hands settle on my hips. I wrap my arms around his neck. 

"Of course, you did," he states. "I wish I could take you away from all this, you know? This helplessness is killing me."

"You do more than enough for me."

"Do I?" he asks doubtfully. "I don't know about that, Nikki. I wish I had enough power to fight Angus Calieri. Free you from him."

I lower my eyes for a beat, then raise them. "I don't see how..."

The words die when I catch someone staring at us over his shoulder. The person is in a hoodie, and I can't see their face, but when we make eye contact, they duck behind a black SUV.

"Nikki, what is it?"

I point before saying anything and he whips his head around to look. I can hardly get the words out. "There's someone over there!"

Roman breaks into a run before I can say anything else. As he runs straight toward the car I just pointed at, I assume he saw the person and I'm not losing my mind. I stand next to our car, rooted to the spot and shaking like a leaf as I watch Roman race after this stalker or watcher or whatever the hell this person is. 

Then, fear takes over all my other emotions and makes my heart skip a beat. 

What if Roman gets hurt?

I start in the direction I saw him run toward, willing my legs to move. I look around for him, sniffling and panicking, and call his name. "Roman? Roman!"

I see him near the entrance of the parking, breathing heavily. When he hears me call his name, he closes the distance between us. 

"What happened?" I ask hysterically. 

"I saw him, Nikki," he claims. "He was watching us. I saw him."

I cover my mouth with my hand. "I thought I was crazy..."

"You're not," he insists, pulling me closer so my head is resting on his chest. His heart is thundering in his chest. "You're not crazy, baby. You're not."

Tears slip from my eyes. I feel much safer in his arms, and words can't describe how glad I am that he didn't get hurt. 

I'm equal parts terrified and relieved. 

On one hand, I'm glad I wasn't imagining things, and on the other, who the hell is watching us?