Write Me A Love Story

(CH. 20)❤️️ | Reece POV

My heart was calm when I woke up the next morning. My skin still burned, but after last night, I wasn't complaining. Having Camila in my home, in my bed, right beside me was worth it.

The last time I made a spontaneous decision like this, it wasn't a good look. But it was something I knew from the start. That woman and I met on looks alone, lust alone, and after two struggling years, I was the one to call it quicks.

Never trust a big butt and a smile, right?

Camila was different. Big butt, definitely yes, but her smile was genuine. When she spoke, I heard her; her passion was louder than the words said. The glue to the moment, the connection, was that when I spoke, she listened. I knew I was more than a man she could fuck on occasion; she came to me for help, guidance, and for conversation.

Did I want more out of this? Yes. Would I force it? Hell no. She agreed to be my girl and that was step number one.

Step number two—slipping out of this bed without waking her up.

As I slowly stepped out of bed, I looked back at Camila. Curled up in the blanket. Parts of her hair covered her face. Her mouth was open and she let out the cutest snore; it made me smile.

I could get used to this.

But first, business. I walked around the bed, went to my dresser, and pulled out a fresh pair of boxers and jogging pants. The bathroom was next. A quick brush, and splashed water on the face, I was awake enough. So much so, reaching for my phone, swiping through my contacts, and calling Mama D was a breeze.

Until I yawned right when Dolores answered.

"Well, don't you sound tired, Reece. Are you coming in?"

I cupped my hand over my mouth. "I'm sorry?" Blinking, I stared at the shut curtains next to my bookshelf. "I'm off today, Dolores."

"You didn't see my text message?"

I didn't. But I pulled my phone away from my ear to double-check. Sure enough, there was an unopened text notification. I quickly swiped down and read it without opening it.

Mama D—I know you're off today, hon, but Sonja called in. Can you help?

I pulled the corner of my mouth down as I cringed. "Dolores, I—"

"Hm." She chuckled on the other end of the call. "Did you have a long night?"

Sliding my tongue over my bottom lip, I walked past my small kitchen table and went over to my desk. I touched my rough draft; my second completed novel. "I may have had a long night," I said.

"Oh?" I could hear the smile in Dolores' voice. "Was it with Camila?"

I chuckled, hummed, and bit my lip. Thinking about her had me grinning. "I did," I said. There wasn't a reason to lie to Dolores.

"Were you safe?" Concern draped over her words. "You know, I always say—"

"Mama." Rarely did I call her 'mama.' I should. She took in the struggling teen who frequented the library after school, but she told me then, I didn't have to call her mom or mother or anything of that nature. She'd said then, "Taking you in my home and into my life is my love and care. Your mother is still out there. And maybe one day, she'll find you."

My mother never came, but Dolores was always there. Always supporting my dreams.

I cleared my throat and quietly laughed. "We were safe, I promise."

"Good." The sound of a chair rolling echoed from Dolores' end. Papers followed. Something hit a desk. "Well, I won't pull you away from that. I can handle the day."

I bit my bottom lip. I hated it if she was there by herself without any help. She was older and I wanted her to be careful. "I mean... is it busy now?"

"Boy," she snickered, "it's nine in the morning."

"Okay?" I raised my brows and opened the curtains. Peering out into the street right outside my window, I watched a man walk his small dog. "Kids can't study in the morning?"

"No," she said. "They're in school right now."

Shit. She was right. Closing the curtains, I looked back into my apartment.

"You don't even know what day it is, do you?" Dolores sighed. Judging by the movement I heard, she shook her head.

"I do," I said. It was Monday. But after the night we had, there was no way today felt like a Monday. Sunday, possibly. Easy mistake.

"So, why were you really calling then if you didn't look at my text message?" Dolores said, curiosity ringing in her voice.

I walked back to the table. The tacos we ordered the night before still sat there, cold and uneaten. I cringed at the sight of them. Good food down the drain. Or maybe a microwave could fix it.

Scooping a taco out of the bag, I unwrapped it and put it on the plate. No, this wouldn't work. "I was calling to see if my shipment came in."

"Oh! The big box!" Her chair rolled. A chair fell. I heard her happy breaths. There was fumbling, another pen falling, but I knew she had it when her hands slapped against something hard. "Yes. I have it. When do I open it, again?"

I snorted through my nose, deciding the tacos weren't salvageable. It hurt to throw them in the garbage, but at this point, it was what it was. I wasn't going to go back in time to change what happened last night. Tacos were my fallen casualties.

"In a month, give or take," I said. "Just store the box somewhere under the front desk."

"That's fine," Dolores said. "I'll scan them into inventory until then. After, we can plan a table and little cards. Oh! I can't wait to make your little cards."

I smiled, and as I approached my opened bedroom door, seeing Camila still sound asleep, I bit my bottom lip. Should I wake her up? I could think of ways to do it.

"Reece." Dolores sounded so pleased on the other line.

"Yeah," I turned, walking back into my kitchen, "what's up?"

"Do you remember when I first approached you?" A soft smile pulled at my lips. Of course, I remembered. I spent days in the library, trying my hardest to sit at those tables until they closed the doors. That was when Dolores noticed and asked if I was hungry. Offered me food, water, and after a place to sleep.

I never knew how she figured out my struggles; I was a quiet teenager who only wanted to read and write my pain on paper. But she saw me. She saved me. And I was forever thankful. "I do, I always do," I said. "Why?"

"I just want to say how proud I am of you. How very proud I am of you."

When she said those words, I leaned against the table. I wiped at my face but my smile only got wider. "You helped me get here," I told her.

"No, no, no," she said, "you did this. You and your creative brain. All I did was feed you."

I'll always remember that sandwich, Mama D.

"And that, forever, means a lot to me."