I'm having a hard time catching my breath as his last sentence sticks out above the rest.
I don't want to let go. I can't let go. She's my forever.
A single tear falls on the journal entries and I quickly wipe at my eyes to avoid ruining the beautiful words below me. With my breathing evening out, I turn back to Tucker's letter and pick up where I left off.
I mean it, Emma. You're my forever.
I know I fucked up, big time, but I plan on making it up to you and it starts now. I might not be there with you right now to brush a kiss across those beautiful lips of yours before you go to bed, so I want to give you the next best thing . . . well, the next best thing I could think of.
You might be wondering where all your stuff is, right? Since you're who I want, you're the girl of my dreams, I want you to be sleeping where I dreamt of you for so many nights before I finally claimed those lips. Go upstairs.
Gathering the card, journal entries, and flowers, I go upstairs making sure to turn on the stairway light. When I reach the top step, I'm floored. Tucker's room is a combination of both of us. His bed, my dresser. His nightstands, my lights. My rug decorates his floor and my throw pillows decorate the armchair in the corner. And on the bed, there is a brand new white comforter and light grey sheets that make the bed look like a cloud floating in the middle of the room. On every surface, there are pictures of us together, some from when we were young, some taken recently, and of course, there are peonies all around the room.
I can't believe he did this.
On the bed is another card, and I waste no time opening.
Welcome home, Emma.
This home, it's ours. No more separate rooms, no more separate beds. We live here together, as one. Racer decorated for me so he better have followed my specific directions and if he touched your underwear in any way, I will make sure to handle him when I get home.
There is a side note written in a different handwriting that says, "I didn't touch your underwear, but I did peek. Can't blame a fella. I really liked the yellow lace bra. Hot, Emma. Love, Racer."
I laugh out loud and cover my mouth. I wondered how Tucker did all of this. I guess I owe Racer a thank you.
I go back to the note.
I hope you like the room. When I get home, we can change anything you want, paint it, or hang things. Whatever you want, baby, I will make happen. Until then, rest easy and know that I'm dreaming about you.
Yours forever,
Tucker
I read the note a few more times before reaching for my phone, my heart full, and the urge to jump and scream in happiness filling me up. I dial Tucker's number and hold my breath, waiting to hear his rich voice over the phone. But after five rings, his voicemail picks up.
"Hey, you've reached Tucker. If this is Emma, be patient, baby. I'll be in touch soon. Until then, dream of me. If this is Racer, I swear I will tell everyone about your Taco Tuesday mishap if you give me shit for this message." The robot comes on the phone and I hang up as I laugh out loud. I want to talk to him . . . badly, but it seems he has a plan I need to wait out.
Sighing, I look around OUR room and sink into the bed.
It isn't over.
It's far from over.
***
"Sorry. Hey, watch it, there are people behind you, you know. No, I won't be quiet. What kind of fucking maze is this? Yes, I go here. What kind of question is that? What am I majoring in? I'm majoring in go fuck yourself . . ."
I look up from my books as I hear a familiar voice grow louder and louder.
"Go ahead, touch me again, see where that gets you. I'm just looking for someone. No, I'm not a lurker. If you would just let me . . . EMMA!" My name is shouted through the entire library, sending a wave of embarrassment down my spine.
I hop up from my seat to find Racer with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, a small bag, and a coffee, struggling against Garrett, one of the library assistants. Racer easily towers over Garrett but Garrett is feisty and is poking Racer in any way he can, making him spin in circles. It's quite the scene.
Going to his rescue, I say, "Garrett, it's okay, he's with me."
Racer sighs in relief when he sees me approach. Giving Garrett a poke back, he says, "Told you I wasn't lurking. Christ, man." Racer pushes past Garrett and looks over his shoulder briefly before turning to me. "Your library watchdog is a real douche." Racer turns around again while walking backwards. "Learn some self-defense. Yeah, you better run away."
"Stop it," I hush him. "You're going to get me kicked out."
I guide him back to my table. "The guy is a tool bag."