Write Me A Love Story

20: ❤️️

[Reece's POV]

My heart was calm when I woke up the next morning. My skin burned, but after last night, I wasn't complaining. Having Camila in my home, in my bed, right beside me was worth it.

The last time I made a spontaneous decision like this, it wasn't a good look. But it was something I knew from the start. That woman and I met on looks alone, lust alone, and after two struggling years, I was the one to call it quits.

Never trust a big butt and a smile, right?

Camila was different. Big butt, definitely yes, but her smile was genuine. When she spoke, I heard her; her passion was louder than the words said. The glue to the moment, the connection, was that when I spoke, she listened. I knew I was more than a man she could fuck on occasion; she came to me for help, guidance, and conversation.

Did I want more out of this? Yes. Would I force it? Hell no. She agreed to be my girl and that was step number one.

Step number two—slipping out of this bed without waking her up.

As I slowly moved, I looked back at Camila curled up in the blanket. Parts of her hair covered her face. Her mouth was open, and she let out the cutest snore. I smiled. I could get used to this.

But first, business. I walked around the bed, went to my dresser, and pulled out a fresh pair of boxers and jogging pants. The bathroom was next. A quick brush, and splashed water on my face, I was awake enough. So much so, that reaching for my phone, swiping through my contacts, and calling Mama D was a breeze.

Until I yawned right when Dolores answered.

"Well, don't you sound tired, Reece. Are you coming in?"

I cupped my hand over my mouth. "I'm sorry?" Blinking, I stared at the shut curtains next to my bookshelf. "I'm off today, Dolores."

"You didn't see my text message?"

I didn't. But I pulled my phone away from my ear to double-check. Sure enough, there was an unopened text notification. I quickly swiped it down and read it without opening it.

Mama D—I know you're off today, hon, but Sonja called off. Can you help?

I pulled the corner of my mouth down as I cringed. "Dolores, I—"

"Hm." She chuckled on the other end of the call. "Did you have a long night?"

Sliding my tongue over my bottom lip, I walked past my small kitchen table and went over to my desk. I touched my rough draft; my second completed novel. "I may have had a long night," I said.

"Oh?" I could hear the smile in Dolores' voice. "Was it with Camila?"

I chuckled, hummed, and bit my lip. Thinking about her had me grinning. "It was," I said. There wasn't a reason to lie to Dolores.

"Were you safe?" Concern draped over her words. "You know, I always say—"

"Mama." I rarely called her that but I should. She took in the struggling teen who frequented the library after school, but she told me then, that I didn't have to call her mom or mother or anything of that nature. She'd said, "Taking you into my home and into my life is my love and care. Your mother is still out there. And maybe one day, she'll find you."

My mother never came, but Dolores was always there, always supporting my dreams.

I cleared my throat and quietly laughed. "We were safe, I promise."

"Good." The sound of a chair rolling echoed from Dolores' end. Papers followed. Something hit a desk. "Well, I won't pull you away from that. I can handle the day."