It All Started With a Diary

effort

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"Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get—only with what you are expecting to give—which is everything." —Katharine Hepburn

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Chapter 94
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|Four Months Later|

I murmured a string of curses as I watched the app. My Uber was supposed to be here a while ago, but if he didn't get here soon, I would be late for the meeting. I should have just saved the money and walked, but it was too late, now.

Just as I refreshed the page for the umpteenth time tonight, it finally loaded. I felt my stomach drop at the cancellation. Canceled. The damn thing was canceled and now, I wasn't going to make it to the campus in time for my meeting.

Unless...

I glanced at the wall, the one I shared with Kade. Immediately, I shook my head.

For the past four months, his determination didn't die. Every morning, he walked me to work, and then was there when I got off, a cup of tea and food in hand before he walked me home. He did the same for my classes. Her never missed a day or was late. He had his car, but since I refused to ride with him, he escorted me around. Neither of us said a thing, and I accepted the company after a couple of weeks. It was slightly comforting.

He continued on with the post it notes, as well. Every morning, there was one waiting for me with a message. Each one was specific in what he missed, and he never repeated the same thing. I would take it off, but never ripped them, again. I would never admit this aloud, but I kept them. In fact, a part of me began to warm up to the notes after a while. I couldn't deny that excited feeling I got every time I woke up, knowing that it was waiting right outside.

It was actually funny, remembering his speech in his kitchen a year ago. He told me that he didn't do flowers, that he didn't do chocolate or anything of that nature. Yet, for the past four months, I was buried in all of it.

Outside of my door each morning were flower bouquets, specifically with apology notes attached, as well as chocolates with names I couldn't even pronounce. Every week, I had a case of jewelry. I tried to sell some of them for my books and rent, but I couldn't keep up with the amount he sent my way. In the midst of the flowers and candy, he threw in other gifts. A laptop, a flat screen. Every week, he had every single one of my favorites book, limited edition and signed by the author, sent right to my apartment.

He kept up with the book reports, as well. I didn't even have the time to read all of the books I threw in, but apparently, he did. Every Saturday morning, he was at my door with a summary, and everything else I had demanded in the book store.

Every time I wanted to rearrange my things, he was right there. Since I changed my mind on my decor a lot, he would come over and get it all done without so much as a sweat. Once, i made the mistake of voicing that I wished I had different colored furniture. The next morning, he had an entirely new set in my favorite color, delivered right to my apartment. He never complained about anything, not once.

I hated it.

At least, I told myself I did. I don't think the effort made me angry, I think the idea of it working is what did.

Each time he smiled, each time he grew hopeful that I would touch him, that I would forgive him...I was afraid I did. Every night, I laid awake and questioned his true motives, but I found nothing malicious. I didn't know anyone who would go as far as he was going without good intentions.