Tiny little fast shakes that indicate I couldn’t be more wrong and he couldn’t be more right. “You have the wrong apartment,” I tell him, hoping he’ll walk away without an argument. “Oh, I can’t really tell you what my attacker was wearing, but his breath smelled good. What an odd lineup that would be at the police station. What a strange thought to have in the moment before I’m attacked. He blows out a breath and I can’t help but notice the air between us fills with the smell of cinnamon. I do this, prepared for the psycho in front of me to lunge any second now. The instructor taught us to slide a key between our fingers, poking outward, so if you’re attacked you can stab the attacker in the eye.

He’s inside all right.” He clenches his fist and taps the wall next to the door. But I guess evil doesn’t have a telling exterior, so it’s hard to judge. I clear my throat and try to hide my fear, even though the guy looks harmless. Does he know Ethan isn’t home? Does he know I’m alone?

Why is he asking me that? My heart begins to race at the thought of being alone in a hallway with a strange guy who’s wondering if I’m about to open a door to an empty apartment. I glance up at him and then back at Ethan’s door. When I find it, he moves beside me, pressing a hand against the door. The guy steps aside and makes room for me but I’m careful not to make further eye contact with him. The guy faces me and I motion toward Ethan’s door to let him know I need to get past him. I walk toward Ethan’s apartment and clear my throat. He just keeps pacing back and forth, looking at Ethan’s door. I watch him, hoping he’ll leave, but he never does. He takes another three steps in the other direction and pauses again. He takes three steps, then pauses and looks at the door. There’s a guy pacing the hallway directly in front of Ethan’s apartment. When I reach Ethan’s floor, I pause as soon as I step out of the elevator. We’ve been doing so much planning for our wedding it’s been weeks since we had an actual home-cooked meal together. I came back a day early but decided not to tell him. Ethan should be home at eight, so I’ll have plenty of time to surprise him with dinner. I look down at my phone and see that it’s already after seven. But today, he simply held the door open with a stoic expression. Vincent has been my favorite doorman since Ethan moved into this apartment building. That thought plagues me during the entire ride up the elevator to Ethan’s floor.

All your perfects book