Page 117 of One More Chapter

Penelope

On my way!

I might be a little early. I’ll just meet you at the bar.

Can’t wait to see you! :)

7:46 PM

Penelope

Hey, everything okay?

Should I send out a search party?

8:12 PM

Penelope

Am I at the right place?

08:22:12 Call to Ant

08:34:15 Call to Ant

8:49 PM

Penelope

Called your mom.

Sounds like you’re okay.

Guess that makes one of us.

Message Read by Ant

forty-five

anthony

Absolutely nothing can messthis day up.

I sent Pen off this morning, cried my way through the ending of another one of her books, hit the gym for a quick workout, and then headed over to my place to finish the secret project I’ve been working on.

I know I’m putting the cart before the horse, but something tells me that Penelope and I are finally getting the wheels back onto the track. Her office is the first completed room in my home. I’ve been spending all of my free time in this room, finishing up the built-in shelves, the custom desk that takes up the entire wall overlooking the backyard pond, and painting it a light sage green. Today was a day for filling in all the details. Aside from stocking it up with her books, it is complete.

The room smells like new carpet and fresh paint. A few knickknacks adorn the shelves, like a fake plant and a mug I found in her collection that saysPlease do not annoy the writer. She may put you in a book and kill you.I found her framed posters and awards in a box inside the office at our place and hung them on the wall. My two gifts were the last items I added: A custom neon sign that has her author pen name written infunky lettering, and a custom door lock that only opens at her fingerprint.

I’m proud of the work, but even more proud of her.

According to the last text I received, the girls landed and are getting glammed up in her hotel suite, in the same hotel where she booked us all rooms. I know there’s a room for me, but I’m hoping that I won’t need it.

Something shifted within us this weekend and clicked into place when we said our goodbyes this morning. Like stuttering cogs in a wheel finally becoming unjammed, I feel slotted securely into place with her for the very first time. On that beach, something awakened, but now that there are no obstacles in our way, I feel confident. Free. A weight dumped from my shoulders so that now, the only thing I have left to carry is her.

Glancing at the clock, I see that I’m ahead of schedule. Only three of my warning alarms have chimed to remind me that I need to shower and change. My car is packed, my luggage has been triple checked, and I’m ready to go. Full of nervous energy, I head back to our temporary home. Once I’m clean shaven and dressed in my airport comfies, I start to pace around the place. I have too much time left to play. The bees in my brain are pinging off the ants in my pants like balls in a pin machine. Being ahead of schedule isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Typically, if I have a prior engagement, I mentally cannot start something else before. All of my brain power is put toward making sure I meet the commitment I made. With Penelope as the only thing on my calendar, I cannot chance messing it up. But when I get an idea to pass the time, and mentally calculate how much time I have left, I know I can’t pass it up.

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