“Linc,” she repeated softly. “I wasn’t sure you would ever call.”
“Yeah. I’m not much of a talker.”
“I don’t know, you seem to be doing pretty well so far,” she complimented. My cheeks burned as I tried not to preen.
“Well.” I cleared my throat. “You made a mess again,” I noted, and she giggled.
“But it was stars and the moon, Linc! You can’t be mad at that. They’re too pretty to feel pissy when you look at them, right?”
“The janitorial staff probably hates me.” I ignored her question because we both knew she was right.
“Hmm, if they do, it’s not the glitter and confetti they get annoyed with. Maybe it’s your sunny disposition. Do you smile, perhaps? Say good morning?” she inquired. My lips twitched. She was sassy just like I had imagined. Better.
“Funny girl,” I muttered and loved the soft laughter that chimed from her. “How are you?” I asked, and the laughter died down.
“What do you mean? Didn’t you get my letter?”
“I did. That’s why I’m calling,” I huffed, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Twenty percent!” she shared happily, the smile in her voice and pride clear as day. “Can you believe that!”
“That’s great, Joy…. But are you okay?” I asked again, and the other end of the line went quiet. I could hear the soft brush of her breath, so I knew she was still there.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” she asked defensively.
“Nothing. Forget it,” I shook off and then frowned. No. I needed to know more than I needed to breathe. “You haven’t talked about you.”
“Yes, I did. I told you about work and my students and—"
“You didn’t say anything about yourself, Joy,” I cut her off. My tone sounded way too stern, but I couldn’t help it. “Are you seeing someone?”
“What?” She laughed. “Am I—” she started to repeat, but I cut her off again.
“Well? Are you?” I asked, sounding every bit of the asshole I was.
“What if I was, Linc?” she asked quietly. “Why would that matter? You don’t even like writing to me.” Fuck! I hated that she seriously believed that. She had no idea how much I loved each one of her letters. Whose fault is that, dipshit?
“Hmm,” I huffed. “That’s not true,” I finally added, giving her a little bit, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen between us.
“Really? You asked me to stop writing—"
“That was over twenty letters ago,” I clipped, and with those few words, I gave even more away.
“You counted?” Of course, she didn’t miss that. My girl was too smart for that. Too observant. My girl? She wasn’t that.
Fuck, she had no idea what I looked like.
But I did.
I took out her picture from my pants pocket. Ever since she had sent it, I’d carried it on me.
My eyes gravitated toward the woman in the center. Right between her two sisters, there she was. Her curvy body made my mouth water. What would she feel like in my arms? In the photograph, she was beaming at whoever was taking the picture. Her dark eyes almost shut with how big her smile was.
And I felt it in my chest.
From the first moment I had laid eyes on Joy, it felt like the mechanical thing in my chest was no longer working on demo mode. Just doing its job to get through. Fuck, who was I kidding?
She’d shocked me to life through the first ten letters, and especially after when she responded to my asshole one.