I Want You To Want Me. Kathy Love

landing smack dab in the center of her back.

      “Get down, you pest,” she groaned, her tone more tired than chagrined. Her cat seemed to have the market on that emotion. He yowled again. She wiggled and he jumped down, hitting the floor with a solid thud.

      “Like you need any more food,” she muttered.

      He meowed once more, then gave up his vocal complaining and sat on the carpet, directly in front of her, regarding her with those unblinking golden eyes. Displeasure clear on his furry face.

      Great, now the stare tactic. Groaning, she rolled over and sat up. God, her brain felt as if it was wrapped in a thick layer of cotton batting.

      She pushed her hair back, and tried to decide what time it was. Sunlight flooded in through the windows and dappled the hardwood floors. Then all thoughts of time disappeared as memories of the night before penetrated her wooly, disoriented brain.

      Vittorio. He’d been here. How could she have forgotten that for even a minute? He’d come down when he heard her reaction to her nightmare. She must have been loud. Her cheeks burned, embarrassed that she’d let a nightmare get her that upset.

      Then again, that was no ordinary nightmare. Even with the warm, lemony light of the sun dancing around her, a chill stole over her skin. She’d never had a dream like that before. Shadows and horrible, disfigured beings coming after her. Pulling at her. Wanting to do things to her that she knew would be beyond awful. All of it had been so real, so vivid. Even remembering frightened her.

      But then Vittorio had been there. He’d checked her apartment. He’d stayed with her until she dozed off again.

      She touched the soft velvet of her duvet. He’d covered her before he left. Somehow that knowledge chased away a little of the chill prickling her skin.

      She pushed away the cover and swung her feet to the floor. The worn wood was warm under her bare feet, helping chase away a bit more of the chill in her bones.

      She looked around, wondering how long he’d stayed. Boris got up and began to twine himself around her ankles, the gesture nagging, certainly not affectionate.

      “All right, all right.” She started to reach down to pick up the plate of remaining marshmallow treats. Then something caught her attention. A half-eaten treat sat on the coffee table. She hadn’t left it there.

      When she’d returned from Vittorio’s apartment with the rejected peace offering, she’d promptly sat down and eaten at least five of them. Drowning her frustration, hurt and disappointment in a moment of binge eating. And she hadn’t left any half-eaten ones behind. Which meant Vittorio ate part of one, despite his dislike of sweets.

      For some reason, the knowledge warmed her further. Which was ludicrous. A few bites of marshmallow and breakfast cereal didn’t mean a thing. Like Boris’s current behavior, the gesture didn’t mean affection, for heaven’s sake.

      Or even mild like, really. But he had come down here last night. And he’d been kind. Maybe she had touched him in some way. Or maybe she’d just been such a wreck, he decided to accept the offering.

      She pushed up from the sofa, being careful not to trip on her insistent cat. She shuffled to the kitchen and reached into the cupboard for a can of tuna. Not only was her cat annoying, he was a very finicky eater. No ordinary cat food for this bossy feline.

      Boris meowed plaintively.

      “Yeah, yeah, I’m hurrying.” She rummaged in a drawer for a can opener. Working the lid off, she tossed the top into the sink, then placed the can on the floor. Another quirk of her cat’s. He wouldn’t eat from a cat dish. The greedy cat started gobbling before she even moved her hand away.

      She tossed the can opener back into the drawer. Then Erika paced over to the door. She opened the door, moving into the sunlight of the glassed-in porch.

      The courtyard was beautiful this morning, vibrant and green. Now that the sleepy haze was clearing from her head, she actually felt good. She should take her sculpting supplies outside and work. But instead of doing that, she wandered back to the living room.

      Was Vittorio sleeping? She imagined he was. He’d said he kept strange hours, and she’d also kept him up late. Still, she was tempted to go upstairs and check.

      Just to thank him, of course. She glanced down at the half-eaten Rice Krispie treat. Or just to see him.

      She rolled her eyes at herself. God, why was she making so much of his reaction last night? And of a few bites of Rice Krispie treat.

      “I need to just act cool about it,” she stated to herself. Or maybe Boris. Or both.

      She picked up the remaining treats, tossing the unfinished one on top, and carried them to the kitchen.

      Only she could make a couple bites of Rice Krispie treat into a budding romance. She needed to get the notion that he was her predicted prince, out of her head.

      “And you need to work,” she commanded herself adamantly. But again, she didn’t move to gather her supplies. She walked back to her front door, cracked it open and angled her head to look at the staircase to the upstairs.

      Without debating it any further, she put her hand on the doorknob and twisted. But the door didn’t budge. She frowned down. The old-style dead bolt was latched.

      She stared at it for a moment, confused. She remembered locking the bolt last night after going to see Vittorio.

      So how did Vittorio get in? And how did he leave and flip the lock back into place? The old bolt either needed a key to lock it or had to be latched from the inside. A chill snaked over her skin.

      “Ah!” she let out a startled cry as her cell phone on the table beside the door picked that moment to ring. She clapped a hand over her skittering heart, trying to calm herself, then she picked up the phone.

      “Hello?”

      “Hey there.”

      Erika recognized the voice on the other end as her friend Jo’s.

      “I just bought my plane ticket,” Jo said, although Erika was still having a hard time concentrating since her heart was doing circles in her chest like an overexcited dog. Her eyes remained locked on that bolt.

      “I’ll be coming in for a week. The twenty-eighth to the fifth. I got a great price. Thanks for suggesting that one site. The deals are good.”

      How had he gotten in here? Had he even really been here?

      “Erika?”

      Erika blinked. “I’m here.”

      “Are you okay?”

      She debated whether to mention anything to her friend. Jo would definitely think she was crazy. She tended to be very practical—not prone to share Erika’s mystical beliefs.

      “Yes. It’s just that—well, remember Vittorio?”

      “Ren’s brother, of course.”

      “Well, he’s staying in the apartment above me.”

      “That’s cool,” Jo said, clearly not understanding how she was supposed to respond to this information.

      “Yeah,” Erika said.

      “You don’t sound too sure.”

      Erika sighed. “You’re right about that. It’s just—well, I guess I should start from the beginning.”

      “Okay,” Jo said, then waited.

      Erika took a deep breath, realizing this was going to probably make little or no sense to her friend.

      “Well, you know since I moved down here that I’ve been going to see Philippe regularly.”

      “No. Who’s Philippe?”

      “He’s that psychic I’ve told you about. The really accurate one.”

      There