Finding Our Course (Finding our Way 3)

The banter continues until the guys have to hang up. I discreetly blow Bryce a kiss, and he winks, mouthing, ‘I love you’.

My stomach flutters with excitement for the rest of the night. It’s almost time for me to start counting the hours.

No way, I think as I read through my email again. Is this for real???

&nb

sp; Professor Grant sent me an email, informing me that the University Newspaper has chosen one of my papers for an October publication. They’re requesting a sit-down meeting with my whole team to ask some specific questions that will be used to complement my work. They’ve also asked me to provide at least five additional pictures. I squeal and grab my phone to send a group text to my family and Bryce.

Me: October - The University paper will feature moi’. Can you believe it? I’ll send more information when I can!!!

The messages come back instantly.

Mom: Bring everything to Rhode Island with you tomorrow night. I want to see it all!

Dad: Way to go, Devon!

Nate: I expect an autographed printed copy when available.

Bryce: Beautiful, there was never any doubt. Congratulations. Can’t wait to see you to celebrate.

Then the messages take a whole new tone.

Dad: Bryce, this is a family message. Not sure if you saw, but please refrain from talking about any kind of celebration with my baby girl.

Bryce: ** raising hands in innocence** Family friendly message. We’ll have a lot to celebrate.

Nate: Slapped him upside the head, Dad. No need to worry.

Yeesh! These men are ridiculous. A new text comes through only from Bryce.

Bryce: So fucking proud of you, baby. Seriously… can’t wait to ‘celebrate’.

Me: God, I miss you.

Bryce: Going into a session. Call tomorrow.

Me: Love you. Wednesday can’t come soon enough.

The door to the apartment swings open with a bang.

“Did you get an email?” Quinn yells, bouncing in.

“Yes! Did you?”

“November Edition! Gymnastics and Wrestling!”

“October—DIVING!!!!!!!”

I jump into her arms, and we dance around, talking over each other until we collapse in a heap on the sofa.

“We’re pretty awesome, aren’t we?” She tries to catch her breath. “I’m so glad you brought us here.”

“Me too, sista. Me too. Things really do work out for a reason.”

Her head falls back on a throw pillow, and she rolls over, shoving her feet in my lap.

“Dean is flying up this weekend. Sorry to bust up your love fest, but he insisted. We’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible.”