Free Love Starts with Elle by Rachel Hauck

instant coffee (never again) and a Pop-Tart (also never again), Elle rehearsed how she would address the issue of communication with Jeremiah when he called. They needed to figure out an effective way of dealing with their differences. Pastor O’Neal might be able to help when they met with him before the wedding.
    But for now, she needed to clean out this studio and throw away stuff she didn’t need, want, or plan to box for the movers to Dallas.
    Little-girl screams drifted up from the yard below. Elle stepped over to check out the action. Rio appeared to be teaching Tracey-Love how to burp a naked baby.
    Yesterday, Elle had spotted Tracey-Love playing in the yard alone and decided to introduce her to Rio. In the course of an evening, they’d become best friends.
    Heath didn’t seem to have many toys for Tracey-Love—had they left New York in a hurry?—so Elle dug through the boxes in the garage until she produced Rio’s doll and baby stroller.
    The grateful gaze in Heath’s eyes lingered with her. Curious about his story, Elle didn’t figure she’d earned the right to pry into his business and ask why Tracey-Love didn’t have a mama.
    “I left a lot of her toys in New York,” he’d confessed as he stood with her in the yard.
    Elle held up her fingers. “Two words, Heath: Wal-Mart. Cheap.
    Buy your daughter some toys.”
    “That’s three words.”
    “Wal-Mart is hyphenated.”
    “And I call myself the writer.”
    “Writer? Didn’t Marsha tell me you’re a lawyer? Hey, Rio, baby, don’t be so bossy.”
    “Yes, I’m a writer dressed as a lawyer. I work for a boutique Manhattan law firm, focus on criminal law, but I took a break, thought I’d write a little.”
    “What’s your book about?”
    “I have no idea. Got any good ideas?”
    Smiling, Elle stepped away from the window. Back to work. What is the gunk in this drawer? She pulled out the work table drawer and dumped its contents down the mouth of a trash bag.
    At the sound of a big growl, Elle looked out the window again. A bearlike Heath popped out from behind a tree and sent the girls scrambling and screaming to the deck, Rio’s dark head bobbing up while Tracey-Love’s blonde one bobbed down.
    TL’s grin could brighten the darkest sea. And Heath would be Rio’s hero by the end of the day if he wasn’t already.
    “Do it again,” Rio shouted to him.
    “Okay, close your eyes.” Heath rose up from his hands and knees. Something caught his attention. Elle pressed her face into the screen to see.
    The FedEx man. “Hey, Chuck,” Elle hollered.
    The man squinted toward her voice. “What are you doing up there, Elle? Playing Rapunzel?”
    “Except for the long hair and Prince Charming, yes.”
    “Got something for you. From Texas.”
    Elle rocketed toward the door, barely avoiding a face plant as her toe caught the edge of a wooden crate. She flew down the studio stairs, meeting Chuck where he stood.
    “It’s from Jeremiah.”
    “Trying to get a few brownie points, huh?” Chuck flipped Elle his box cutter. “Want to open it?”
    She hesitated. What if it was personal? “Okay, but no peeking over my shoulder until I say it’s safe.” Elle took the box cutter. Kneeling in Heath and Chuck’s shade, with a sliver of sun falling across the box, she sliced the tape and peered inside.
    “Well, what’d he send?” Chuck’s barrel frame blocked her light, but he kept his promise not to peek.
    Heath waited on the other side of Chuck.
    A bundle of CDs tied with the same ribbon she’d used when she gave him the recordings as a gift. The neckties she’d give him for Christmas. The pictures she’d had framed for his apartment in Dallas. The shells they’d gathered during their first walk on the beach. Movie stubs. The napkin she’d given him after blotting her lipstick because he said, “It smells like you.”
    Among the items, she found no note of explanation. Her skin prickled with heat. Why would Jeremiah do this?
    Chuck cleared