On Paper (45 page)

I STARED AT
the completed manuscript on my screen. Uploaded. Ready to go. I felt nervous about the idea of hitting the button that would send it out into the world. It wasn’t about the world seeing the words; it was about her seeing them. I wanted her to see them. I needed her to see them. But honesty is hard when it's this raw.

This was easily the hardest thing I’d ever written. But somehow it was also the most effortless. It was my heart, my broken pieces and my every hope weaved into the words of this story. It was my story. It was our story. No one would know, except for her. She would know. This whole book was my message to her.

All I could do was hope that she read it. I needed her to know. I'd fucked up a lot when it came to Quinn. I'd hurt her, I'd pushed her away after I'd convinced her to stay. I needed her to know that I regretted it. I needed her to know that I thought about her every day. Most of all, I needed her to know that I loved her.

There were no guarantees that she would read it; the girl was stubborn. She'd probably ignore it just because she could. I hoped that she couldn't. I needed her to read it. If no one else in the entire world read it, I needed her to. Maybe it was selfish of me to put it all out there and hope that no one would see through it, but I’ve always known I was selfish.

I took a deep breath and clicked publish. It was gone. Within a few hours my surprise book would be live and my soul would be bared to an unknowing public. I felt a quiet calm take over, drifting over me in the quiet of the night. I closed the lid on my computer and took a deep breath, letting out the nerves and accepting that I'd done what I’d needed to do.

I smiled as I looked down at the print out of the cover art. It had turned out just the way that I had imagined it. The cover was dark, a man sitting in shadow, bent over with his elbows on his knees. He was lost, defeated, just as I had been when she'd left. In his hand he held a single white daisy, its petals no longer perfect, but still holding on, still fighting with life. Then, there was the title, in bold script, running across the top of the page. One word that said it all:

Apology
.

I WAS READING
past my bedtime when my computer dinged with an incoming Skype call. Lily. I smiled and thanked God for technology. I waved as her image took over the screen.

"Hey, Lil, what's up?" I asked. She looked concerned. It made my heart flutter with a twinge of worry.

"Have you seen it?" Lily's voice came out low and calm, like she was afraid of my reaction.

"Have I seen what?" I asked.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she contemplated how to deliver whatever news she had. Honestly, it looked like she was preparing to deliver a harsh blow.

"Lily, what's going on? You're freaking me out," I laughed, nervously.

"Are you sitting down? You need to see something," she said. She pulled out her phone and started working the screen to find whatever it was that was so important for me to see. Her gaze found mine, as she prepared to turn the phone to me. "It's Keaton," she warned.

Shit. What was she about to show me? Was it him and some new girl? I didn't need, nor did I want, to see that. "Lily, I don't--." I tried to turn away. I didn't need this distraction. I was working at getting over whatever we had been. I didn't need constant reminders of what he was doing now or who he was doing it with.

"Wait," Lily demanded. She shoved the phone at the camera. It wasn't Keaton. At least not a photo of him. It was a book cover.

"What is this?" I asked squinting at the screen so that I could get a better look.

"He released it last night. No one knew it was happening. Miles didn’t even know he was doing it," she said.

I stared at the screen. The cover was beautiful. The model looked a lot like the guy I had known, but it was the daisy that held my attention, causing my heart to pound painfully against my chest. Tears pricked my eyes. The title,
Apology
. What was this? What did it mean?

"Are you okay?" Lily asked.

I shook my head as her face came back into view. I was glad; I didn't want to look at it anymore. It had knocked me unsteady. "What's it about?" I asked quietly.

Lily tilted her head to the side, giving me a look that suggested that I was crazy. I felt a little crazy right now. I definitely didn't feel in control at the moment.

"Are you going to read it?" she asked quietly.

"No. Why would I read it? It's over. I don't need to read it," I said, squaring my shoulders.

"But don't you want to? I mean it has to be meant for you, right?" she asked carefully.

Could it be meant for me? The idea seemed preposterous. I mean talk about over-the-top. But that cover. That title. It all made my heart ache.

"No. I can't go back there."

"I guess I can understand that. Should I not have shown you?" she asked.

I shook my head, "No. I would have seen it anyway. It's fine. I just feel a little rattled," I admitted.

Lily took a deep breath and I watched as she squared her shoulders. I recognized her trying to change the mood, help me shake off the cloud that had settled in around me. "Try and forget it. Just stay off social media for awhile and do your best not to think about it," she said. It was a great plan. I wasn't sure it was one that I could follow though. Despite my claims, I was already itching to read it. How could I not? It was the biggest temptation sitting right in front of me, I knew it would be bad for me, I knew it would hurt, but I still craved it. Because they were his words and I missed his words. I missed his voice, his smile; I missed every single thing about him.

Lily must have seen the struggle on my face. "Are you okay, sweetie?" she asked. I nodded, still trying to sort through it.

"I'm here if you want to stay connected. I can stay up all night to talk you off the ledge if you want," she smiled.

"I'll be fine. I think I'm just going to try and go to sleep," I said even though my pulse was racing with adrenaline that I knew would keep me far away from sleep.

"You're sure?" She obviously didn't believe me, but she knew me well enough to know that I needed to sort this one out on my own.

"I'm sure. Thanks for giving me the heads up," I said. She frowned and I managed a laugh. "Really, it’s better than being surprised later," I assured her.

We said our goodbyes and I fell back against my pillows and stared up at the ceiling, the battle already raging within me. My head warned me to stay far away from that book, but my heart craved it, felt the necessity of knowing. Each decision seemed dangerous.

No. I wouldn't give in. I'd made too many strides at getting my life back together. I had moved clear across the country alone and I was starting a new life. This was my time and I didn't need to go back down that road with him. And let's be honest, cover and title aside, chances are the story was completely random and had nothing to do with us. The idea that it did seemed completely self-indulgent.

I flipped off the light, letting the dark surround me, hoping it would shut of my brain. It only made it louder. It was on a constant loop, it wasn't getting me anywhere.

I made it forty-two minutes before I caved.

I turned on the lamp and grabbed the Kindle off of my nightstand, my fingers tapped against the edges nervously as I debated turning it on.

I shouldn't go anywhere near it. But I hit the power button and found the buy page anyway. I stared at the cover until it became a blur of color with no definition. I wasn't going to buy it, but before I could stop myself I'd hit buy and now it was sitting on my Kindle, waiting for me like the greatest temptation I'd had since . . . well, since that first night we'd been together in San Francisco.

The words waited for me, pulling at me. I was afraid of them. I needed them. I didn't even know what I wanted them to say. What if I read them and they had nothing to do with me, with us? What if they had everything to do with us? I didn't know which would be best.

I clicked the page, away from the title and took a deep breath as I landed on the dedication page.

For you. It will always be you.

That's all it took. Tears pricked my eyes. I knew I had to read it. There was never any choice. I missed him too much to ignore any of his words. And to know that these words were something more . . . I had to. Maybe they would heal me, maybe they would shatter me. It didn't matter. I had to finish the journey. These words had become a part of our story and I had no choice but to finish it.

THE LINE WAS
long. My palms were sweating and the constant chatter around me was becoming a hum of white noise. I kept questioning my decision to come here. Did I really want to see him face-to-face, here, at a signing surrounded by strangers? I didn't know what I hoped to accomplish. Maybe I was hoping to find the closure I'd denied myself when I'd left? Maybe I wanted to thank him for the words he'd written about us, or maybe I just really wanted to see his face. Up close. In person. Whatever the reason, I'd felt the pull to come here and face him.

But as the line pushed forward it left me feeling nauseated. The whole scene, me standing in this line, holding his book, waiting like a stranger and feeling like a ghost, left me unsteady. I was getting closer now, I couldn't see him but I could hear his laugh every now and again, breaking through the chatter. It hit me like a freight train, the familiar tone. I closed my eyes and tried to picture his face, the way he'd let his head fall back when he laughed like that. I nearly stepped out of the line. I nearly changed my mind and headed for home. I wasn't ready for this.

"Oh, shit, there he is. He's even sexier in person." That was the girl three people ahead of me. My stomach flipped. She could see him. I was so close. I let out a slow breath. I needed to see him. I needed to replace the last image that I had. The words he had written demanded I be here. Demanded this meeting and as much as I wanted to run away, I knew I wouldn't. I knew I couldn't.

The line moved forward. Was it moving faster now? I fidgeted, my fingers digging into the paperback in my hands. I chewed on my lip. Two people stood in front of me now. I didn't dare look up to see him. Even though I knew he was probably in clear view now. I could hear his voice as he softly talked to the people at the table. I swallowed hard, unable to lift my eyes. Not yet.

"Miss, you can go up now," a voice beside me said. I looked over and into eyes of one of the employees and gave a weak nod. It's funny, the last time I saw Keaton Harris I'd had to will my feet to move too. I lifted my gaze, time to be a grown-up. I stepped forward and as his eyes lifted from the table and locked onto mine my heart stumbled. That face, I'd missed that face so much.

His mouth fell open and I heard my name fall from his lips and it was as if the entire world around me faded to black. It was only him. I never thought I'd be this close to him again, yet here he was looking amazing and sending an avalanche of emotion down around me.

"Hi," I managed. My voice was shaky and my mouth was so dry I wasn't sure I'd get any other words out. And then he smiled and the way it lit his face comforted me. We stared at each other, neither of us knowing what to say. How can someone feel so familiar and yet so much of a stranger at the same time?

"Congratulations on the book," I finally said. My voice sounded far away in my ears.

"You read it?" he asked, his voice hopeful and nervous. I couldn't help but smile, because I'd missed that about him. That boyish uncertainty when he wasn't feeling in control of a situation.

"It was beautiful," I said softly.

He smiled, a look of relief in his eyes. "It's you," he said. I swallowed hard and tried to fight the tightening in my throat that told me tears were on the way. I shouldn't have come here. This situation was too hard. There were too many people to witness this reunion and it didn't feel right.

"Can I sign?" he asked, nodding to the book in my hands. I handed it over and as his fingers brushed mine our eyes locked and I knew he'd felt the same spark that I had. He held my gaze and I swear he was telling me a thousand things, but I couldn't hear any of them.