THURSDAY 9:00 P.M. Can you call me when you get up so I know you’re alive???
THURSDAY 11:20 P.M. I got a hold of Rhett and asked him if this was normal and apparently it is. I will come by in the morning.
THURSDAY 11:22 P.M. goodnight ♥?
The second I finish reading, I dial her number.
She answers on the second ring. “Jamie?”
“Who else would it be?” I tease, my voice scratchy.
She lets out a massive sigh on the other end of the line, her breath creating a loud crackling sound through the speaker. “I wish I would have known you were going to sleep for twenty-four years.”
“Just twenty-four hours, Rae,” I tease her, then I think better of it. I know she probably tossed and turned half the night worrying about me. “Sorry, I should have warned you.”
“It’s okay,” she says quietly. “How are you feeling?”
It’s a loaded question. If she’s asking about how my body is recovering from the shift, I feel fully rested and almost back to normal. But if she’s asking about us—what we did—I’m worried I might say the wrong thing. Part of me is still afraid I’ll spook her and send her running, but ultimately, I know I need to be honest. So, I tell her the truth.
“I’m good, Rae. What about you?”
“Me too.”
I can hear the grin in her tone, and I just know she’s probably smiling to herself like a giddy school girl with a crush. I love the idea of giving her butterflies, like we just met and are slowly learning things about each other one day at a time. In a way, I guess that’s true. From here on out, I will be learning and exploring a new side of Raegan that I’ve never had permission to see before.
As long as she lets me.
“I’m glad to hear it,” I tell her, as I get up from the bed. “I guess that means you can start packing again.”
A beat passes, and I swear I feel a batch of butterflies in my own stomach.
Then she agrees.“I guess it does.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
RAEGAN
Ihadn’t realized exactly how many books I accumulated over the years until I was forced to pack them all into boxes. It feels as if eighty percent of what I own is books. This was made very obvious because by the time Jamie and I finish hauling them into his condo late Friday afternoon, there are only three boxes of household items and a suitcase left.
“Where are your clothes, Rae?” he asks, clearly out of breath.
I feel bad for making him carry my heavy boxes up and down the stairs, but I can’t deny how good his arms look under the weight. I keep finding new parts of Jamie that send an ache through my core. Like the veins in his hands and forearms.
As my eyes train on the tight grip he has on the box he’s carrying, I’m instantly transported back to when those same hands were gripping my thighs, and I can’t believe I spent over fifteen years ignoring all the gloriously attractive parts of him.
I refocus my lustful thoughts to his lingering question. “That’s what the suitcase is for,” I tell him, tossing my thumb over my shoulder.
It’s sad but true.
My closet leaves little to be desired. It certainly wouldn’t grab the attention of any influencers. The last time I cared about what I wore was in middle school. I had a uniform all through high school and then immediately started working. Other than the flowy tops and jeans I wear at Bound and Buried, most of my time is spent in loungewear and T-shirts. As a thirty-two year old, I find I’d rather be comfortable than fashionable.
“I thought you read on your kindle? What’s the point of all these books?”
“They’re my trophies,” I say, completely serious. “I read the ebook or listen to the audiobook, and then if I really liked it, I buy a physical copy for my shelves.”
Jamie stares at me with a blank face, silently judging me. He’ll be very excited about the bookshelves in storage I forgot to tell him about.
“Oh come on, give her a break.”
