one condition,” I said. “Jeff and Charlotte have to promise right now to come and visit us the moment it’s completed.”
“Of course,” Charlotte answered.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” added Jeff with a smile.
Jack gave a small grin. “So you love it?” I didn’t miss his flicker of concern.
It wasn’t an engagement ring. It was an even more extravagant and binding future. And it meant him in the Lowcountry and us together. I threw my arms around his neck, knocking off the Santa hat. “I love it!”
JACK SELECTED THE next thick square package from under the tree. The package I had carefully placed there yesterday.
“For me.” He looked up at me. “From you.”
“Yep.” I was nervous. I had no idea what to get Jack that was meaningful to him. Figuring out gifts for people was always hard. But for Jack? Impossible. If the guy wanted something, he bought it.
He brought it over and sat next to me as he tore the blue and silver wrapping. Pulling the paper away, he revealed a thick scrapbook. I could tell he was confused. Especially when he opened the first page and staring up at him was a tabloid article with the words “Where in the World is Jack?” It was over a year old, right in the middle of his scandal with Audrey. He tensed next to me, his brow furrowed. I sensed Charlotte watching him cautiously from across the room.
“What is this?” he asked, his voice oddly raspy.
“Keep going,” I whispered.
He turned the page to where I’d pasted in a carefully handwritten sheet of paper, and his eyes scanned my words:
Standing in front of me was the most beautiful man I had seen in all of my twenty-two years on this planet. His rich dark brown hair, mussed up from the hat, stood up in a few places and framed a hard-planed face set with eyes the color of…
Well, I really couldn’t tell the color of his eyes in the shadows, but I knew exactly what color they were, a deep grey-green. I hadn’t been hiding under a rock for the last five years. And I certainly didn’t need to double check the tabloid magazine Jazz had been reading, which definitely did not do him justice, to know that standing in front of me, Keri Ann Butler, outside the Snapper Grill in Butler Cove, population nine thousand, and hundreds of miles away from his expected location in Hollywood, was none other than Jack Eversea.
“I still don’t understand.”
“Keep going, please.”
Jack smiled tightly.
Next were even more articles, but this time my addition to the time period was a note he’d left me and his shopping list he’d texted me that I screen grabbed and printed out. That was followed by some more of our bantering texts.
Then on the day of Audrey’s released statement about her and Jack’s breakup, I’d pasted in a copy of the receipt where he’d paid to have the floors done at my house, followed by a handwritten entry that made me blush to read it, describing our first kiss and first intimate moments.
Jack was pale and swallowed heavily. But he kept turning pages and reading. I’d put in the reports about him being seen in Savannah with Audrey, which was a painful time for both of us to remember. And for those pages, I’d put in personal recollections of Jack. I’d written about my conversation with my brother and his observation of how Jack looked at me.
Like you were the last chopper out of Baghdad, the last IV in the field hospital, the last funnel cake at the fair…
I just know that the way he was looking at you, he’s coming back someday.
There were reports of a massive showdown between Jack and Audrey, and Jack’s agent being fired. I wrote about my birthday, and seeing Devon, and how I’d felt meeting him. My worry for Jack and what his agent and Audrey may have done to hurt him. The fear that Jack wouldn’t come back, that what we’d felt was in my own imagination.
It was painful, especially when I got to the parts where he was in England, and there were photos of him with
“Of course,” Charlotte answered.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” added Jeff with a smile.
Jack gave a small grin. “So you love it?” I didn’t miss his flicker of concern.
It wasn’t an engagement ring. It was an even more extravagant and binding future. And it meant him in the Lowcountry and us together. I threw my arms around his neck, knocking off the Santa hat. “I love it!”
JACK SELECTED THE next thick square package from under the tree. The package I had carefully placed there yesterday.
“For me.” He looked up at me. “From you.”
“Yep.” I was nervous. I had no idea what to get Jack that was meaningful to him. Figuring out gifts for people was always hard. But for Jack? Impossible. If the guy wanted something, he bought it.
He brought it over and sat next to me as he tore the blue and silver wrapping. Pulling the paper away, he revealed a thick scrapbook. I could tell he was confused. Especially when he opened the first page and staring up at him was a tabloid article with the words “Where in the World is Jack?” It was over a year old, right in the middle of his scandal with Audrey. He tensed next to me, his brow furrowed. I sensed Charlotte watching him cautiously from across the room.
“What is this?” he asked, his voice oddly raspy.
“Keep going,” I whispered.
He turned the page to where I’d pasted in a carefully handwritten sheet of paper, and his eyes scanned my words:
Standing in front of me was the most beautiful man I had seen in all of my twenty-two years on this planet. His rich dark brown hair, mussed up from the hat, stood up in a few places and framed a hard-planed face set with eyes the color of…
Well, I really couldn’t tell the color of his eyes in the shadows, but I knew exactly what color they were, a deep grey-green. I hadn’t been hiding under a rock for the last five years. And I certainly didn’t need to double check the tabloid magazine Jazz had been reading, which definitely did not do him justice, to know that standing in front of me, Keri Ann Butler, outside the Snapper Grill in Butler Cove, population nine thousand, and hundreds of miles away from his expected location in Hollywood, was none other than Jack Eversea.
“I still don’t understand.”
“Keep going, please.”
Jack smiled tightly.
Next were even more articles, but this time my addition to the time period was a note he’d left me and his shopping list he’d texted me that I screen grabbed and printed out. That was followed by some more of our bantering texts.
Then on the day of Audrey’s released statement about her and Jack’s breakup, I’d pasted in a copy of the receipt where he’d paid to have the floors done at my house, followed by a handwritten entry that made me blush to read it, describing our first kiss and first intimate moments.
Jack was pale and swallowed heavily. But he kept turning pages and reading. I’d put in the reports about him being seen in Savannah with Audrey, which was a painful time for both of us to remember. And for those pages, I’d put in personal recollections of Jack. I’d written about my conversation with my brother and his observation of how Jack looked at me.
Like you were the last chopper out of Baghdad, the last IV in the field hospital, the last funnel cake at the fair…
I just know that the way he was looking at you, he’s coming back someday.
There were reports of a massive showdown between Jack and Audrey, and Jack’s agent being fired. I wrote about my birthday, and seeing Devon, and how I’d felt meeting him. My worry for Jack and what his agent and Audrey may have done to hurt him. The fear that Jack wouldn’t come back, that what we’d felt was in my own imagination.
It was painful, especially when I got to the parts where he was in England, and there were photos of him with
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