Write Me A Love Story

Chapter Twenty-Six:

Patience is a virtue

*

All of Wednesday, most of Thursday, followed by a call-off on Friday, I stayed with Reece. I grabbed his medicine, prepared his meals, and even took some of his clothes to wash. I only left to feed Franny—who, at this point, had become accustomed to me not being home and the couch had become her new bed.

She was happy to see me each time at least.

I admit, a part of the extra action and care was selfish on my part. Because, yes I wanted him to feel better. And yes, I knew feeling shitty wasn't good for anyone. But I wanted him to be fever free on Saturday... so he could be my plus-one for the winner's event.

Mission achieved.

Pulling the thermometer away from his forehead, a normal-ish 98.9 blinked on the screen. "I think you're better," I said, turning the results so he could see. "How are you feeling?"

Reece pushed off his kitchen counter and came close to me. His hands went to my waist, sliding over my shirt until they sat on the small of my back. His warm skin was a comfort. He'd spent days without a shirt on, but at this point, I wondered if he enjoyed the air against his skin, or if he knew I enjoyed him like this and only did it to please me. Honestly, I couldn't complain.

Holding me like this, he rocked us side to side. "Good enough to support you," he said. Then leaned in closer and whispered, "and possibly give you that lovin' I owe you for doing this."

I blushed. Biting my lip, I shook my head and pushed him back against the counter. "Supporting me, yes, I want you to be my plus one. Now, the loving," I traced my fingers over his chest, "I'd want you to keep resting and feel one hundred percent before we even go down that road."

"Woah, woah, woah." Regardless of what I said, Reece pulled me closer, so my hips pressed against his. "You think I can't?"

I squealed quietly. "I didn't say that."

"You did," he peppered kisses down my neck, "but I'll respect what you say. It's a valid point."

Giggling, I leaned into his touch. He may have agreed, but it didn't mean I wasn't thinking about it. Because I did. A lot.

"Okay, tonight," I looked up into his eyes, "we can get dressed up really nice and enjoy the ceremony."

"You mean, enjoy watching you win," he said, lifting my chin.

"You don't know if I'm going to win," I whispered.

His thumb brushed over my bottom lip. "You gotta speak it into existence, baby." He bent slightly and kissed me. "Believe me, I believe it can happen."

"Thank you." I kissed him back. "Thank you for believing in me."

"I do." His hands slid to mine as he turned me around, so my back was to his chest. Hugging me close, he kissed the spot behind my ear. He pointed ahead at his living room, right at his bookshelves. The small glimmers of dust floating into the sunlight coming in through his window were peaceful as I followed his finger.

And listened to him whisper, "Your book is going to sit right there, front and center." He kissed my ear again. "I will make room for you, right there, on that shelf."

I imagined what he said. My book, "Cyber End," would sit on the middle show. It would glow in the sunlight; the dust would be the glitter. No, there would be actual glitter. Magical. Like fairy dust.

"You really think so, huh?" I whispered.

"I know so." He softly rubbed his head against mine. "I know so, baby."