Page 62 of Love On Time

I pull a tube of mascara and concealer from my bag, doing my best to erase the evidence of my emotions before the guests notice. Taking one last deep exhale, I roll my shoulders back and step back out onto the library floor to face the rest of my already crazy Monday morning.

I sit at my desk, staring blankly at the glowing laptop screen, trying to focus on the work in front of me. I pull up the library’s return logs and tracking spreadsheets, but with the truth sitting just a few inches away in my bag, it’s incredibly hard to care about anything other than those letters.

My fingers hover over the keyboard, but my mind keeps straying back to his words. My heart has belonged to you since I was sixteen.

I find myself checking the clock every ten minutes, counting down the seconds until my shift ends so I can take that envelope home, pour myself a tall glass of wine, and spread six years of his heart across my bed.

Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. My phone chimes against the wood next to me. I quickly scramble for my phone, having forgotten to set it to silent earlier. The chime echoes against the quiet library walls. Ping, ping. What the hell is going on?

I open my text messages to see my family group chat flooded with texts.

Ivy

OH MY GOD, CAMI OPEN THE LINK RIGHT NOW!!!

Mom

Look at the blog, sweetheart!

Dad

Congrats, kiddo!

Cooper

And so it begins…

Ivy

Oh shush babe! Let her have her moment!

Cooper

Ivy, you're sitting right next to me!

Beneath the storm of messages is a link to Drew’s travel website. My heart starts pounding against my ribs as I tap on it, the page loading agonizingly slow on the library WiFi. Finally, the article fills my screen. But the photos are not of a wildly green jungle or sprawling blue oceans. The screen fills with a montage of photos—all of me from the wedding. There’s a shot of me laughing at the rehearsal dinner, a candid of me looking out at the lake at sunset, a blurry, high-energy photo of me dancing on the dance floor, and the last one is the photo I showed Maggie, of Drew and me on the dance floor at the reception. Under the gallery is his article.

For six years, I let fear control my life. Initially, I started traveling to run away from my life, I thought I was protecting the people I loved by keeping my burdens away from them. Then, I picked up a camera and a pen, and my life started to feel a little less heavy. Traveling has healed parts of me that I didn't think would ever heal again. But one thing was always missing from my life: one person. I’m realizing now that the bravest thing you can do is stand still and fight for what matters. So, I’m done running. I’m going home.

I scroll down, my vision blurring as I read his final paragraph.

To everyone who has followed my journey across the world and through the most beautiful destinations I could have dreamed of: I have deeply loved my time traveling, and this isn't a permanent goodbye. It’s only a 'see you later.' But the next time I pack my bags, the next time I head out to explore a new corner of the globe, I won't be going alone. The next time, I'm bringing her with me.

My breath catches in my throat. A shaky, ecstatic sob escapes my lips, and the tears I just spent ten minutes concealing in the restroom are now flowing again. He isn't giving up his world for me; he’s inviting me into it. And then, my eyes find the very last line of the article:

P.S. I told her family to blow up her phone to get her attention. Cami, come outside. I'm waiting for you.

The text at the bottom of the screen blurs as adrenaline starts pumping through my veins. I don't care that I'm supposed to be running a library, I throw my phone onto the desk, push my chair back so hard it slams into the wall behind me, and bolt. My flats tap loudly against the polished floors, shattering the building's silence. I push the heavy glass double doors open, bursting out into the blinding afternoon sun.

My eyes frantically scan the parking lot, and there he is. He’s leaning against his car, looking up from his phone the second the doors swing open. The moment his eyes lock onto mine, a big smile breaks across his face, and he straightens up, opening his arms wide.

The years of silence, the agonizing doubts and what-ifs, all vanish underneath the California sun as I sprint towards him. I don’t slow down. I throw my entire weight into him, my hands flying up to wrap securely around his neck as he catches me. His arms lock around my waist, lifting my feet completely off the pavement. He holds me so tightly it knocks the breath right out of my lungs, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

“Cami,” he breathes against my skin, his voice sounds exactly how my heart feels. “I'm so sorry it took me so long.”

I can’t even form words. I just squeeze him tighter, my fingers knotting into the fabric of his shirt. The familiar scent of him—smoky vanilla and musk fills my senses. My eyes flutter shut as I melt into his arms. The phantom pain that had been sitting in my chest since the airport has finally stopped aching.

When he slides me back down, he doesn't let go. His hands reach up to cup my face, his thumbs gently wiping away the fresh tear tracks. He leans into my lips, pulling me into a long kiss that makes time stand still. Finally, the clock has stopped ticking, and there is no longer a haunting reminder of pain stretching between us.