Catch My Breath by Wendy L. Wilson

Author:Wendy L. Wilson [Wilson, Wendy L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, books, romance, love, contemporary adult romance
Publisher: Wendy L. Wilson
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“HEY, I’LL CATCH YOU later. I need to do something before I head to work.” I wave over my shoulder as we both exit the café and swing around to the left to the pastry shop that is three doors down.

“Hey, I forgot to tell you,” Evan calls out as he opens the passenger side of his work truck. Pulling out a large paper bag, he adds, “I was cleaning out my camper while I was at the lake this weekend and I found this.” He holds the bag out towards me. “It’s all the fireworks that we didn’t use this summer. I wasn’t sure if you wanted them or not, but I just loaded a bunch of junk I didn’t need laying around out there and figured I’d give these back to you or Tristan to hang on to.”

“Yeah, sure. Just take them to the apartment,” I say, turning to dart away. Another idea springs to mind and I pause, mid step. “Wait.”

Turning on only the balls of my feet, I turn back to Evan as he halts on depositing the bag back into the passenger floor board of the truck. He stares at me blankly, holding the bag between us. My hands clutch onto the crinkled grocery bag that now feels like coarse leather from being crumpled closed for the last several months.

Pulling it open with one hand while I brace the other palm up, at the bottom of the bag, I reach my hand in and peer down at the maze of fireworks, fountains and rockets that were abandoned after the Fourth. My eyes swiftly land on a small red, white and blue diagonally striped fire cracker. Perfect.

“What, you planning on setting off some rockets on that dude’s front lawn? Maybe we could set them up on the lawn to spell out ‘get lost scumbag’,” he says excitedly with an over eager grin painted on his face.

I shake my head, “Not a bad idea,” I chuckle. “But no … I’ll see you in a bit at the job site.”

Thirty minutes later, I’m standing back in her apartment, staring at the little white container that I just got from one of the best bakery shops in Rosemore. Mom used to go there and buy us fudge every week when we were younger. They made it right there in front of you on a huge marble slab. I remember how it would melt in your mouth and slide down your tongue, making your taste buds scream for more.

Flipping the lid up on the container, I stare down at the warm, gooey brownie that I hand-picked just minutes ago. Still holding onto the small firecracker, I squeeze it tighter in hopes of relaying just a bit of what she is to me with this. Last thing I want is for this to come off as some pathetic and lame attempt at winning her back.

I love her, so of course I want her back, but more over, I want to remind her just how much.

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