GRACE
The next morning while I’m getting ready for work, I notice the copy of Promises James gave to me sitting on the kitchen counter. I left it there last night in an exhausted daze. Stroking the glossy cover, I shake my head, still unable to believe that not only have I met its author, I’ve fallen in love with him.
Opening the cover, my eyes wash over his neat handwriting.
Grace. I can’t give you any promises, but I can give you my heart. Take care of it for me. JD Simmons.
I suck in a deep breath and hold it there, unintentionally, until I feel a little dizzy. “I’ll do my best,” I whisper to nobody. But knowing what I know now, this seems like such a huge responsibility. I hope I don’t let him down.
This book seems too precious to stand with my others on the cheap pine shelves,
