Chapter Eleven

It was four months before Faith found the courage to return to the little bookstore down the street.

She waited until just before five o'clock on a pleasant September Sunday afternoon, then walked the two blocks to Book Keepers, her heart beating so loudly she was certain every pedestrian she passed could hear it.

She paused just out of sight of the front windows, closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing.

I haven't been able to get him out of my head. I need to see him. I need to know if he still feels the way he said he did.

And what if he doesn't? What then?

Well… then I guess I'll know I blew it.

She talked herself into walking through, rather than past, the entrance and noticed the look of complete surprise on Rick's face when he glanced over and saw her standing in his store.

"Hi," he said softly, and made her stomach turn to butterflies.

"Hi," she whispered back. "Is it all right if we talk?"

"I'd like that," he answered, and started to come around the front counter, but stopped as two patrons approached the register with their purchases.

She nodded to him once, then made her way to the mysteries and thrillers section to collect her thoughts while she waited.

***

While his hands busied themselves ringing up his customers and packaging their books neatly, Rick's mind raced.

I can't believe she's here. And I hope to God she doesn't leave until we can talk.

He thanked his customers and watched them leave, then walked over to the door, locked it, and flipped the sign to 'Closed.'

As he inched his way toward the rack that he knew she'd be standing in front of, his heart began to pound.

***

She'd just picked up the latest Paul Austin Ardoin novel and begun reading the back cover when she sensed Rick was nearby.

Faith turned slowly and looked up into his brown eyes.

He took a tentative step forward.

"Faith, I.." he started to say, then stopped.

"I missed you," she said simply, resisting the sudden urge to wrap her arms around him and not let go.

He smiled, and her butterflies intensified.

"I missed you, too."

He took another step toward her.

"You wouldn't want to go get dinner or something, would you?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, but I think we really should talk first," she answered. "Is it okay if we just go upstairs?"

"As long as you're comfortable with that."

"I am. I trust you, Rick."

He led the way to the lift.

***

He purposely kept the conversation centered on food as they walked into his kitchen.

"I've got stuff for sandwiches, and… that's about it, actually," he admitted with a shy grin as he scanned the contents of his pantry and refrigerator. "Haven't gone grocery shopping in a while."

"Sandwiches work just fine," Faith told him as she sat on a barstool at the counter.

He began pulling the items needed and setting them on the counter.

"Would you like something to drink? I have tea made."

"I think something just a bit stronger. You want one?" she asked.

"I'll take a whiskey over ice."

"I'll be right back, then," Faith replied, and made her way to the bar in the living room to pour out two tumblers.

***

The conversation was light as they sat at his kitchen table and ate. She filled him in on what had been happening at her workplace, and he shared that he'd brokered a deal with several schools in the area to supplement their summer reading programs with new books.

When the meal was over, they moved to the living room and sat down on the couch.

She took a sip of whiskey, then set her glass down, turned to him, and spoke.

"I'm sorry," she began. "When you told me what you did, I completely freaked out and I ran away, and that wasn't fair to either one of us."

Rick watched Faith's face intently, his expression betraying nothing.

"I thought that if I stayed away and just… ignored what I was feeling for you, it would all work out. That it would go away."

She sighed, stood, and moved to the fireplace.

"But it hasn't. I can't get you out of my head, Rick. And the more time passes, the more I feel like I missed a chance to have something great in my life. I know I hurt you when I ran, and I am so sorry. I feel grateful you're even willing to speak to me anymore."

He stood and walked over to her and started to speak, but Faith kept talking.

"I just…I know you probably hate me now. I know I blew it and there's no chance for us at all anymore…"

Her voice trailed off as her eyes brimmed, and she turned away from him in embarrassment.

She closed her eyes when she felt his hands on her shoulders.

“And you underestimate me, a great deal,” he said softly as he turned her to face him, then gently wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

“You captivate me, Faith, heart and soul, not just body. From the instant I saw you, I felt like I was finally able to breathe again, to feel again. To live again. That doesn't just go away.”

He kissed her lightly on the cheeks and forehead before he tenderly pressed his lips to hers.

And his understanding, his gentleness, the look he gave her that showed he truly did know firsthand about dying on the inside is what undid her.

He caught her as she slid down, took her in his arms, held her and comforted her while she purged over a year’s worth of pent-up grieving and heartache from her soul.

***

She had no idea how much time had passed. All Faith knew was that she was emotionally and physically exhausted.

She had run out of tears.

Rick stroked her back, her hair, and rocked her gently to try to soothe her wounded spirit.

In a small voice she finally spoke. 

“I bet I look amazing right now. Waterproof mascara, my ass.”

Rick laughed and tilted her face up to his.

“You’re beautiful, no matter what your makeup is doing. You’re even more beautiful without it. But it’s not run as badly as you think.”

“I need to freshen up, and you probably could use a dry, makeup-free shirt.”

Faith pulled herself upright and headed to the bathroom. At the sink, she ran cool water, wet a washcloth, and ran it over her tear-stained face.

And watched Rick in the mirror as he passed her, shirtless, to the closet.

There’s that well defined six pack, I just knew he had one.

He walked back toward her, pulling a snug fitting t-shirt down around his midsection, and stopped when he saw he was being watched.

“What?”

“Um. Nothing. Got any aspirin? Making a complete ass out of myself in front of a cute guy brings a headache every time. This one’s a doozy.”

“I imagine your head must be killing you right now. And for the record, you didn’t make an ass of yourself,” he said, and

handed her two Excedrin.

“How do you feel, other than the head?”

“Drained,” she said. “I didn’t realize how much stuff I had pushed down and not dealt with, I guess. Quite a litmus test for you, I bet, dealing with me ugly crying. Are you sure you still want to be around me?”

“More than ever. You really think I’m cute?”

“More than ever.”

“Good. Stay with me tonight, Faith. Not sex,” he added hastily, hands up. “Just, stay. Rest. We can talk more, watch TV, sleep. Please.”

She went to him and took his hand.