Three days after Harry returned to LA, another picture hit the tabloids. There was a massive crowd around Harry, but one person in particular was leaning in close and it looked like Harry was kissing her. I examined the picture closely, knowing it couldn't be what it looked like, but it sure looked authentic.

Harry insisted that he remembered nothing about a girl even getting that close, let alone kissing him.

"You believe me, don't you?" He asked.

"Of course, I do. I know that it's hard for most females to resist you," I teased.

Two days later, I received another text from Cortin Valow: Did you enjoy your family Thanksgiving? And the cocktail party? Too bad I wasn't invited.

I wasn't really scared by this new text, just irritated. Seriously, why couldn't this person just leave us alone?

I called Niall and told him about the text. He said he'd come by later in the day to look at it.

He arrived late in the afternoon and I showed him the text. He tried to find out where the text came from, but he was unsuccessful. It seemed that all the messages were coming from different places – various cell phone numbers, land lines, computers – and hardly ever from the same place twice.

"Just keep track of any more texts, okay? And it would be helpful if you could unblock Cortin from Facebook and Twitter and let the spam email messages come through. We could possibly track them more easily that way, too. Also, let me get some information from your computer so I can gain remote access, if that's okay with you."

"Yes, of course. Whatever you need to do."

Niall sat down at my computer and started clicking around.

"How was your Thanksgiving with Hope?" I asked.

"Oh, it was perfect," he smiled. "And she's still here, actually. She's going to stay through Christmas. You know, so we can do some wedding planning. And then I'll go back to Michigan with her, to spend some time with her family and celebrate the New Year with them."

The smile on Niall's face said it all. He was smitten.

"Well, maybe she and I can go shopping some time," I offered.

"Yeah, she'd love that, I'm sure." He punched Hope's number into my cell phone and then gave it back to me.

After Niall left, I cautiously unblocked Cortin Valow from my contacts. I expected to be bombarded with hateful messages, but nothing happened. I walked away from the computer feeling like I had just left the front door unlocked.

The next few days were a flurry of Christmas activities at the kids' school, Christmas baking with my mom, and of course, doing some Christmas shopping.

When I finally had a chance to sit down at my computer, I was swamped with messages from CV.

Stop ignoring me!

How's Harry?

I just want to be your friend.

I can help Harry with his career.

Loving Harry's new album. Such a hot picture of Harry on the cover.

The Twitter messages were more creepy. Cortin had tweeted Harry hundreds of times using the hashtag #HarrysNo1fan. But the direct messages to me were downright evil.

Harry's too good for you.

You're too old for Harry. Get a life!

I'm going to steal him from you.

Over the next several days, Cortin Valow posted many pictures of Harry out and about, around LA – restaurants, clubs, the hotel where he was staying. All of them had captions like "Harry is the hottest!" and they were all hashtagged with #HarrysNo1fan.

That's when I started to freak out. Either the stalker had followed Harry to LA or she just had really good sources for finding pictures of Harry.

I informed Niall every time I noticed a new message. I felt safe knowing that he was on top of every tip. I knew that he was doing everything he could to track down this harasser. It would be the best Christmas gift ever if this person was caught before the holidays were over.

To keep my mind occupied, I kept my word and invited Niall's fiancée Hope to go shopping. Niall had not yet taken her to the Mall of America, so that's where we went. What was it about these boys from across the pond who didn't seem to know that The Mall of America was one of the primary attractions in the twin cities?

I really enjoyed Hope's company. She was fun and upbeat, and very down-to-earth. We had a good time picking out gifts for Niall and Harry. They had really hit it off, and I was glad for that because I liked Hope a lot, too. I could see us becoming terrific friends.

When we stopped for lunch, I checked my phone. To my horror, there was a picture of Harry in my inbox. The picture itself didn't scare me – Cortin Valow had posted plenty of pictures of Harry online, so I knew that he or she was following Harry. But this particular picture was edited so that Harry's face was in the crosshairs of the scope of a gun. I felt certain that she was in LA and now she was stalking my husband.

I burst into tears and Hope looked at me in shock.

"What happened?" She asked.

I showed her the phone. I forced myself to stop sobbing long enough to say, "I'm sure that Niall has told you all about my stalker."

"No, he hasn't actually. He isn't allowed to tell me anything about his cases. You have someone stalking you? How terrifying!" She said sympathetically. "Would you like me to call Niall?"

"Yes, please," I said, wiping the tears from my face.

I quickly dialed Harry's number and told him about the picture. He could hear my voice quivering and I could tell it startled him.

"What's wrong, love?"

"What's wrong is that Cortin Valow is now threatening to kill you!"

"What are you talking about?" He said a little too calmly.

I sent him the picture and his response was, "Huh. Interesting."

"That's all you can say?!" I said, sobbing again. "This person wants to kill you."

"Lise," he said, "I really don't think anyone wants to kill me. I think it's all a show. They're trying to scare you and that's what they've done. Don't worry, darling. I'll be fine."

"But Harry, she's in LA! How else could she be getting all these pictures of you?!"

"Maybe she's finding them on the tabloids. I don't keep track of them anymore." He was trying to console me, but something in his voice made me think he was a little bit shaken by this new piece of information.

"Harry, I just know she's in LA. She's been getting a lot of closeup pictures of you."

"Lise," he said, his voice calming while he spoke. "I will be okay. Please don't worry about me. I love you."

"I love you, too." I hung up, feeling irritated that Harry didn't think this was a big deal. Hope and I were already on our way to meet Niall by the time Harry and I finished talking.

When we met up with him, Niall agreed that this new photo could be considered a direct threat.

"Can you please, please check out Victoria again? I really have a feeling it's her."

Niall sighed sympathetically and said, "I will check her out again, but Lise, I really don't think she's responsible for this. There just isn't enough evidence against her."

"Well, will you please contact the police in LA and inform them? I want to know my husband is safe."

"I've already done that," he assured me. "He'll be fine. Most stalkers are all talk."

Most stalkers, he said. But some are whackos who actually kidnap and shoot people.

Whoever this stalker was, she was sly. She would get me worked into a frenzy and then disappear off the grid for a while, giving me a false sense of security. Just when I would think maybe she had given up, I would get another barrage of messages and photos. And now she was after Harry, too.

December was always busy with Christmas preparations, but now the insanity was tripled because of Harry's bursting career and the ongoing threats from Cortin Valow. Harry was in high demand by radio stations and talk shows and of course, all the publicity going into his tour which was scheduled to begin in early January. The kids always found it amusing to watch Daddy on TV or listen to an interview on the radio. I enjoyed it, too, but I was beginning to feel worn out with the stalker worries in addition to being a single mom again most of the time.

Harry Skyped with us one evening the third week in December, and when the kids were done talking to him, he told me excitedly, "I found an apartment!"

"Oh," I said, feeling less than excited.

"What's that for?"

"What?"

"Oh," he said, mimicking my less-than-enthusiastic tone.

"Well, you and I didn't really talk about it," I said.

"I know, love, but what is there to talk about, really? It's cheaper to rent an apartment than a hotel room. And I'll have my own space in an apartment. And my own kitchen! I'm getting sick of eating out all the time, you know."

"I know," I sighed. "It does make sense. It just feels like you're moving away." I pouted. "Will there be a place for me when I come and visit?"

He gave me a sassy look and said, "No, I got a small bed that no one can share with me!"

I gave that look right back to him and he said, "I just ordered some furniture. A king-sized bed for us, and set of bunk beds and two twin beds. There are two bedrooms and a small office, so I thought the girls could share the bedroom, and Danny could have the office. I don't need much space in there anyway."

I smiled, relieved that he had been thinking about us the whole time when he made arrangements for this apartment. "When do you move in?" I asked.

"Next Monday. Maybe you and the kids could come for a visit?"

"Well, babe, you'll be home the following week anyway. Let's try to arrange a trip out there when we have a longer time apart. It would be great to come out to LA in February when it's freezing cold here!"

"I'll be on tour in February. But I have a break at some point. Maybe you could all take a vacation out here instead of me coming home."

"That's a possibility," I agreed, sighing. "Is it bad that I'm already getting tired of this?"

"I promise it won't always be so crazy," he said. "And it's not easy having this stalker harassing us all the time." I was thankful that he finally acknowledged my anxiety about the situation.

The following Monday, Harry was planning to Skype us from his new apartment. But before we even connected, I got another text – a picture of Harry outside his apartment building, a key dangling from his finger. The message read: "Harry's got a new place, hey? I guess he's getting tired of the chaos at home. What a great place for him to entertain his female visitors."

Another exasperated sigh. Another phone call to Niall. When was this person going to give up? And when was she going to accept that Harry was never going to become the playboy that she imagined?

Of course, the tabloids were definitely against my convictions as well, when for three straight days, they featured a picture of Harry with his arm around a woman in a restaurant (he was posing for a photo with a woman who worked at Urbane, but the other photographer was "conveniently" left out of the picture), another of Harry shaking it up on the dance floor at one of LA's hottest clubs, and finally, a series of pictures of Harry being swarmed by fans outside the Urbane Records building, asking him for selfies, autographs, and even kisses on the cheek. And of course, every article made some speculation about Harry's newfound freedom and enjoyment of his overnight success and his satisfaction (or lack thereof) with being a family man.

If I were to look at the surface of the photos and articles, I might have been convinced that Harry was indeed living it up. And maybe he was. He was suddenly a successful musician who was gaining popularity by the day. What man wouldn't relish that for a while? But I knew Harry – he wouldn't want that lifestyle forever. In the end, he would still find his satisfaction in coming home to his adoring family.

Wouldn't he?