“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?”