Free Be My Love by J. C. McKenzie

dialing the phone, and she spent the remaining half of the week racked with guilt and shame.
    She had to make things right.
    But as the work week finished, no ideas or magical solutions came to her. So Brenna pulled her big girl socks up and decided to go to Eric’s place. She’d be direct, and apologize.
    With a bottle of wine.
    Don’t forget the condoms , the little devil on her shoulder whispered in her ear.
    Brenna’s face heated. She chucked the box of condoms in her purse before slinging it over her shoulder. A little presumptuous, maybe, but if her apology went the way she planned and her dreams played out, they’d need protection.
    She flicked the lights off. As she reached to open the door, someone knocked. Her heart bolted into her throat. Her hand froze inches from the door handle.
    Eric?
    She leaned forward and peered through the peephole.
    Her stomach sank.
    Not Eric.
    Some young, sweaty courier. He swayed a bit on the other side of the door, and looked ready to collapse.
    A long breath escaped her lungs. Her shoulders dropped. Better see what the courier had for her. Maybe he had the romance novels she ordered last week online. Or maybe a bill. She turned the knob and swung the door open. A waft of sweat and the cool night air hit her. She smiled and said, “Hello.”
    The courier rocked back on his heels. His eyes widened, and his mouth parted.
    After it appeared the courier planned to remain speechless, Brenna took a step outside. “Do you have something for me?”
    He’d better make this fast. She had places to go. Apologies to make.
    “Yeah, sorry.” The courier shook his head and seemed to collect himself. “Just made sense of something a customer said.”
    She waited. Her toes itched to tap, but she clenched her teeth and folded her arms over her chest.
    The courier shrugged and dug out a small package from his delivery bag and held it out to her. She unfolded her arms and plucked the light parcel from his open palm. Before she could really look at it, the courier jutted his other hand out with a large gray handheld device.
    “Please sign,” he said.
    She plucked the little pointer thingy from his hand, and electronically signed her name. Her gaze kept darting back to the package. A courier sticker covered her name and address, but the sender information stared back at her with bold black lettering. From Eric Buchanan.
    Her heart stopped.
    “Thank you,” the courier said. “Have a great night.”
    “Yeah,” she mumbled. “You, too.”
    Eric sent her something?
    She ripped open the bland brown packing paper, meticulously wrapped over a small pink box with a white bow. She’d pick up the paper later. As she stood in her doorway, she untied the bow and opened the box.
    The sugary sweet smell of candy rose to her face. Her eyes stung. Watery vision took in the small heart-shaped pieces. She plucked one out and flipped it over.
    BE MY LOVE, it read.
    She popped it in her mouth, and the sweet flavour spread to coat her tongue.
    She picked up another candy heart and read it.
    BE MY LOVE.
    She gasped and dropped the candy back in the box, rifling for another one.
    BE MY LOVE.
    And another.
    BE MY LOVE.
    She continued to sort through the small box. They all said the same thing. How many packages had he gone through to make this?
    Warmth spread through her chest, ballooning and intensifying with each candy she looked at. A white card lay on the bottom. She pulled it out. Little specs of coloured sugar encrusted its surface and decorated Eric’s even writing.
    I meant every word , he wrote. My heart is yours .
    Her own heart beat heavy and fast in her chest, punching against her ribs and making her vision waver. She clutched the box to her breast and blinked back tears threatening to spill from her stinging eyes.
    “Do you have any idea how many packages of candy I had to go through?” Eric said, echoing her earlier thought.
    Brenna jumped at the sound. Her head snapped up. There at the foot of