Write Me A Love Story

Chapter Twenty-Four:

Forgive and give the thanks that's deserved.

*

Nancy, I'm running to the library. I'll probably be late. If Joe asks, I'll be there eventually.

I typed a quick text message as I sped and walked down the street. My job could wait and I knew Nancy would be the right person to spread my message. Joe and all his "manager glory," both praised and feared Nancy.

While I waited at the crosswalk, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A quick look showed Nancy's name at the top. I was obviously more important than whatever apples or fruits she was ordered to stock.

Is Reece there? What happened?—her response read.

Biting my lip, the walking signal changed and I started ahead. My fingers quickly typed across my phone's screen. My story placed in the contest!—my reply read—I'm invited to the event this Saturday!

Good shit!—Nancy's response was quick—Go talk to him! Tell him the good news!

That was my plan. But that plan would be paired with thanks and apologies. He made a decision against my wishes but it worked out for me. And for that, I felt like I needed to say I was sorry...

Sorry for not hearing him out.

Sorry for not texting him for days.

I couldn't apologize for what I felt that night; that was me, my mind, and my own insecurities. But I could apologize for the days that had followed. For a relationship to work, there needed to be communication. I had closed that door.

I'll keep you updated—my last text to Nancy as I pocketed my phone. The library's entrance was just feet away.

I took in a deep breath.

*

"Welcome!" Dolores greeted me from near the front desk, but she wasn't behind the counter. She was beside it, near a table, putting red and black decorations over a tablecloth. And next to those decorations was a stack of books.

A new release? My curiosity peaked. But my eyes wavered right after.

Reece wasn't here. He was normally in the front with Dolores. I didn't see him anywhere else; not by the stairs, not by the bookshelves, nowhere near the computers.

Biting my lip, I walked up to Delores. "Hi," I said in the tiniest voice, "is Reece here?"

"No." She didn't turn around. Reaching into a box beside the table, she sighed and pulled out more books. "He's not in today, under the weather. Has been for days. Shame he's not here for this. They got his changes back in time for release and—"

As she finally turned around, my gaze trailed away from her to look at the books she put on display. The cover was beautiful; matte gray with embossed green vines. The title read, "Forever, Neverending," and beneath that was the author, "R. Z. Williams."

R. Z. Williams.

Reece "Zeke" Williams?

My breath caught in my chest as I grabbed one of the books.

"OH! Camila! I didn't know it was you. I should've known. Did he tell you to come today?"

After running my hands over the cover, I turned to the inner flap. It was Reece. Above an author's bio was a professional photo of him standing beside a tree. His sturdy smile called to me.

"Reece... has a published book," I whispered. Not to her. Or anyone. Not even myself. I think I needed to speak it into existence; to get my mind to realize what was in my hands.