Page 51 of Letters of Faith
There’s a sign in front of us with the words Clayton County Memorial Library written in block letters. The building itself is biggerthan any library I’ve been to.
“What are we doing at a library?” she asks.
I smile down at her as I pull up to the valet stand and put the truck in park. Confusion draws her brows together as she looks at the valet and then back at me.
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re not supposed to,” I say, placing a simple kiss on the crown of her head before getting out and walking to her side of the truck. Opening her door, I put my hand out and help her down.
She doesn’t release my hand when her feet are on the ground. Men and women swarm all around us, exiting their cars in formal wear, and as I look around, I can’t help but think I’m the luckiest man here.
Georgia is beautiful. The dress I had delivered compliments her pale skin, and her hair is pulled back into a slick, high ponytail, revealing the smoothness of her skin, but it’s not just her outward appearance. It’s everything about her. Her soul is beautiful, even with the scars life has left on it.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, tilting my head towards the steps everyone else is ascending.
She squeezes my hand and whispers, “Always.”
Stepping in front of her, I pull her along as we take the steps two at a time. Then, we are standing at the top. The doors are opened for us by men dressed in tuxes just like me, and when we step through into the library, Georgia’s breath stutters as she takes in the sight.
“What is this?” she asks, her eyes wide as she takes in the library.
The library is an older building with stairs that descend into the main room. The ceilings are tall, and the walls are lined with shelves filled with books. All the tables have been cleared from the center of the room, leaving a wide open space where men spin their women around on a dance floor. To the right, a fireplace is lit, and couches are scattered around it, with women sitting down and reading a bookfrom one of the shelves.
“It’s a book ball. A customer of mine mentioned it a few weeks back. There are some local authors here who will be doing book readings by the fireplace,” I say, reaching inside my pants pocket and pulling out a folded paper. “Here’s the itinerary for all the authors who will be here.”
Georgia’s mouth sets ajar as she stares at the paper I’m holding out for her to take. I clear my throat as she continues to stare.
Maybe I messed up, and this is too much for a first date. I’m about to take the paper back and tell her we can go, but then she places her hand on my arm. Her soft touch sends a shot of electricity straight to my heart.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
Her lips tip up on one side, and it hits me that it’s genuine. I’ve missed seeing smiles on her face that aren’t forced because she thinks she has to.
She takes the paper from me and studies it, and I watch her closely, waiting until she gets to the last name on the list. I see the exact moment that she reads the name. Her eyes widen, and her head snaps up to look at me.
“Ava Carson is here? Are you kidding me?”
Georgia’s hands shake as she tries to stop herself from jumping up and down in excitement. Ava Carson has been her favorite author since we were in high school. Every time she releases a new book, Georgia has it in her hand within the week. It’s another reason I brought her here. I knew she wouldn’t miss a chance to meet her favorite author.
“Nope—not a joke.”
At this point, she can’t contain her excitement. She’s bouncing up and down on her toes before finally flinging her arms around my neck. Placing both my hands on her back, I hold her close, relishing having her in my arms.
“This is the best date I’ve ever been on.”
As soon as she says it, her whole body tenses against mine. The regret is instant.
“Georgia, I will never make it a competition between Nate and me. You have your memories with him, and they are good. We will have our own memories. It doesn’t dilute your ones with him—they’re just different. That’s all. You can love this date and the ones you went on with him, too.”
She nods against my shoulder, taking in what I said, and I turn my head to whisper in her ear.
“Will you dance with me?”
She pulls back and smiles at me, and I know I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to put that smile on her face.
“You can dance?” she asks, and I scoff.
“Of course, I can dance. Who do you think taught Nate?”
