by Emily Camp
He rubbed his chin. “I’m sorry about … last night.”
“I’m sorry for all of it.”
Jack’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and looked down at the essay again. I wanted to rip it out of his hand and run away, but it was too late. He’d already seen it. And I was here waiting … waiting … waiting for something … anything.
“What about the paper?” I resisted the urge to get up and walk away. I had to stay here and take it, if he rejected me, at least I tried.
“I mean it does have some grammar issues and technically it should be love, loss and recovery, because you can’t have recovery without loss.”
“Jack,” I said. Did he not realize he needed to give me something besides constructive criticism here?
Under the table, his palm gripped my knee, steadying it. “You also can’t have recovery when the love was never lost.”
To my relief, he looked up at me and smiled. “Would this be a good time to kiss you?”
I nodded and said the three words I hadn’t allowed myself say or hear for years.
Acknowledgements
First, I would like to thank my readers. Special mention goes out to Reese Petruska, who was the first person to read a very early version and helped me work out some of the details. My critique partner Amber Cole, and my editor, Michele Coleman. Mishayla Dowler for helping me with the cover. Also my Literature Professor and advisor, Jill Anderson for introducing me to some great literature that I can learn from and always being excited about any of my accomplishments, no matter how small. To all my friends and family who had to hear, “I can’t, I have to work on my book,” when they wanted me to do something. Sorry, you won’t quit hearing that, I have more books to write. Thank you for your patience with me.