All I think about is Hope. The way she watched me leave this evening to come up here. I sent her a text, so she knew where I was, but like all the others, I haven’t gotten a reply. At this point, I have no idea what to do. I’d already decided to leave her alone for the weekend. Maybe I’m being too pushy, maybe I’m not. I honestly have no idea, and I think the situation is unchartered territory for both of us. I do know I’m not giving up, though.
Closing my book as Theo pulls up the drive, I stand and wait for him to shut off the vehicle and wake a sleeping Lola in the front seat. They exchange a few words, and I’m at her door to open it before Theo’s even out of his seat.
“Hey there, pretty lady.” I grin as she blushes. “I’m Reed.”
“Nice to meet you.” Her voice is shy as the soothing atmosphere washes over her.
Theo stands beside me as Lola wanders to the sand, burying her toes in the warmth. “You picked a quiet one, big brother.”
“Not always, she’s not.” His voice is soft as he watches the love of his life. I try not to let my envy consume me.
“Yeah, I bet,” I mutter. “Here.” Tossing the keys to Theo as I back away to my vehicle, he catches them. “Fridge is stocked, sheets are clean. Leave those in the back porchlight when you leave.”
“You’re heading out already?” As much as I’d like to stay and visit, they need this time alone.
“Yeah, your girl needs your full attention. This place has a healing quality to it. Use it. Let her soak it in. I’ll be up your way this summer, might even have a girl of my own.” I wink, still hoping for the damn best.
“Looking forward to it.” I’m about to open my door when he calls my name again. “Thanks, Reed, I appreciate this.”
“Anything for family.”
As quickly as Theo appeared, I’m gone, heading home to contemplate all the ways I can make things up to Hope.
The drive is long, the music is loud, the wind whips through my hair as I cruise down the highway when I see a billboard advertisement about love letters. The idea strikes, and suddenly, I know just how to communicate with Hope.
If she doesn’t rip it up first.
Stopping by an office supply store before heading home, I grab what I need. Anticipation buzzes in my veins as I prepare to bare my soul out on paper. The old-fashioned way.
I really hope she’ll read it before chucking it.
As I pull in my driveway, her lights are out, and I know she must be asleep, so I try to be as quiet as possible entering my house, even though we don’t really hear each other anyways.
Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I pop the top off and plop on the sofa before searching Netflix for the sappiest romance movie I can find. Deciding on P.S. I Love You, I hit play and watch. Hoping to get inspired.
From the first letter, my own words flow onto the paper in my lap.
Dear Hope…
Hope
It’s been more than thirty-six hours since I’ve received a phone call or text from Reed. A full twenty-four since he slid an envelope under my door. I still haven’t opened it. I’m almost afraid to.
Will it be a rejection letter?
A love letter?
Something else entirely?
The uncertainty holds me back from opening it.
That and the morning sickness that has plagued me for the last two days. When I haven’t been puking my guts out, I’ve been sleeping. I even told Luca we wouldn’t be shopping this weekend when he came home early and that I needed to be alone.
We’ve messaged a few times, and he keeps on asking me if I’ve spoken to Reed yet. My answer is always the same.
I don’t know how to.
I want to talk to him.
Find out what happened.
The alexithymia restrains me in ways that cuffs, rope, or other binding items can't. Being unable to decipher if we share the same feelings or if I’m some passing ship in the night for him is very difficult.
Though, I don’t get that feeling from Reed. Not with the possessiveness he exhibits around me. But how can I be sure?
He watches me like I’m his whole world, and it’s that behavior that is tempting me to talk to him.
But not until this morning sickness is gone.
Before we can be anything to each other, I have to tell him I’m pregnant. If he wants to stay, then I’ll accept our connection.
If he doesn’t, it’s better we split now.
My phone ringing startles me into dropping the letter on the floor as I see a number I don’t recognize flashing across the screen.
I answer with a tentative, “Hello?”
“Hi, Hope, my name is Lola Bishop. Do you have a moment to talk?” a soft voice says.
“Oh, umm, I guess?” I hesitate because I don’t know who this person is or what she wants.
“You can call me back at your convenience if that's better,” she suggests.
I think about it for a moment, but what if it’s important now? “Now is fine.”
“I’m a friend of Reed Burkhart.” Biting my bottom lip, I have no idea what to say.
Finally, I breathe out an, “Oh.”
“Are you alright? I'm here if you'd like to talk,” she says. I get the feeling she understands pain and might relate.
“No,” I croak out and begin to sob. Lola listens, offering supportive noises, so I know someone is on the other end of the line.
After a minute, I begin spilling everything.
About my alexithymia, which I hardly tell anyone about.
About Leslie and Miles and how much they helped me throughout our friendship. What I’ve done for them.
The baby.
A baby girl.
“You’re having a little girl?” Her voice perks up.
I nod only to realize she can’t see me. “Yes,” I utter.
“Reed has no idea at all?”
“None,” I whisper. “I was going to tell him when everything exploded.”
“He wrote you a letter. Have you read it yet?”
Staring down at the floor where the paper landed, I pick it up. “No, I’ve been afraid to.”
Her tinkling laugh is weirdly reassuring. “Don’t be. If I know anything about these Burkhart men, it’s that they wouldn’t do a thing to hurt a woman they care about. And Hope? Reed cares about you so much. He is physically aching not being able to talk to you.”
I feel the same way. At least I think that’s what this cramping is. “How do I tell him about the baby? Why would he want to stay?”
“Oh, honey, I’m sure he’ll be shocked. He likely won’t know what to say or how to react but do it at a time when you’re comfortable. But please, for both of your sakes, don’t take too long. Each of you need this.”
“Thank you, Lola.” After a quick goodbye and a promise to stay in touch, we hang up, and I finally open Reed’s letter. Immediately, I begin to cry.
Dear Hope,
I could say I’m sorry a thousand times, but it won’t matter nearly as much if you don’t hear me. See the conviction in my eyes as I tell you that what you saw was not what it appeared. Cliché, I know. But true.
From your first smile to your tears, to those silences you think are awkward but give me insight into who you are, I’ve been falling for you.