It’s only in the silence he leaves behind that the realization finally settles.
He never once mentioned leaving for work before I wake.
By Cecily Sterling, USA Today
The sense of accomplishment that washes over me every time I type those words never dulls. I read, reread, read once more, and only then do I finally hit send to my editor.
As I scroll back through my email thread with Lewis, a wave of nostalgia catches me off guard. I didn’t expect it, but suddenly I’m right back at the beginning of all this.
I started a blog in college. At first it was little more than a diary, a place to chronicle my first steps at NYU. The rush of independence, the crush of new faces, the small, thrilling freedoms of being on my own.
But as the blog grew, so did my voice. I began writing about everything unfolding around me, sharing fragments of my days, snippets of conversations, and later, the little trips I took with my parents and friends.
Travel was always my favorite part, and I think that showed, because those posts were the ones everyone read, the ones people commented on and emailed me about. They were the entries where I felt the most alive.
Almost without thinking, I type the link into my browser and log in.
A Small World.
Even after all these years, I still smile at the name I chose over two decades ago. It’s embarrassingly cliché… but endearingly so.
When I met Colin, I was working at a bookstore and saving every dollar I could for a long-dreamed-of backpacking trip across Europe. I had every detail mapped out. The itineraries, the quiet corners untouched by tourists, the hidden cafes locals whispered about if you earned their trust.
That trip had consumed me for over a year.
But then… Colin happened.
I had been standing on the ladder, reshelving books and dusting the upper shelves, when a deep, commanding voice rose behind me.
“Do you have any books on gardening? Preferably a classic or a rare edition, it’s for my mom.”
My foot slipped on the step as I turned, and for a breathless second I felt myself tipping backward. I squeezed my eyes shut, already bracing for the fall…
But it never came.
Strong hands caught me by the waist, steadying me against a solid chest.
I opened my eyes, summoning what little courage I had, and met his gaze.
He was breathtaking.
His hair was a bright, sunlit blond. Piercing gray eyes held me captive beneath darker, sharply defined brows. A straight nose, a firm mouth, a jawline chiseled with almost careless perfection. His whole face carried an air of confidence he made no effort to hide.
“Your eyes.”
His voice, low, hoarse, pulled me back into myself.
My lips were parted, and I shut them at once, swallowing. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve never seen eyes like yours.” There was something almost reverent in the way he said it.
“Blue?” I replied, awkward and off-balance. “They’re not that rare.”
But he just stared, unmoving, his gaze locked with mine as if everything else had fallen away. My hands had curled around his shoulders without permission, and his jaw tightened in response. Suddenly, the nearness of him became too much.
“Would you mind putting me down?” I managed, my voice unsteady.
He studied me for another long moment before lowering me slowly, my body sliding down the length of his until my feet reached the floor.
