The pages of the book Jared held were full of hand-written words. He had begun at the very top of the page, writing in tiny script, using every empty space available.

“What is that?”

“My journal. I thought I’d get caught up. I’m about a month behind. I didn’t want to leave anything out,” he said, kissing my hair.

“You keep a journal?” I asked in surprise.

“What else is there to do for the six or so hours I’m awake at night?” he smiled.

“Do you ever write about me?”

“Nina, most of this book is about you,” he said, as if it should have been obvious.

I sat up. “Seriously?”

Jared grinned, amused at my reaction. “Yes. You don’t believe me?”

“Of course I believe you…I just….” I looked down at the thick book, and noticed that there was only half an inch left to write in. “That’s a lot of pages.”

His features softened as he scanned my face. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“You took notes on things I did?”

Jared laughed. “No. Well…sometimes. Mostly I wrote about the way the things you did made me feel, or plans I’d make, how I could get around Jack’s wishes, how I would live without you, how I would make you happy. It got me through some rough nights.”

“Is there anything bad?”

Jared grinned. “Would you like to read it?”

“No!” I cried. Embarrassed that he thought that was what I wanted, I felt the familiar fire burn under my cheeks. “It’s your journal. It’s none of my business.”

“I don’t keep secrets from you. You know that.”

I looked down at my hands and picked at my fingernails. “It’s private. I wouldn’t want you to read my journal.”

“You don’t have a journal. I probably would have read it if you did,” he said offhandedly.

I looked up at him, shocked.

“I’m kidding!” he chuckled. “There’s nothing I’ve written that I’m ashamed of. I think it would be a good thing.”

He closed the book and placed it in my lap. I was curious to know what the journal contained, but it felt wrong to read it, regardless of the permission I’d been given.

“Nina. It’s okay. Read it,” he said, taking a finger and flipping open the cover to the first page.

I spent the stormy afternoon with my head propped up against Jared, reading his private thoughts. Once I’d pored over the first few pages, the guilt slipped away and I found myself absorbed in every word. It was an odd sensation reading my memories from pages written at a time when I didn’t know he existed.