“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.
I want to see you as more than neighbors. More than friends. I want there to be an us, Hope.
I’ve never been more emotionally and physically attracted to a woman than I am you. The second our eyes connected a week ago, I’ve been addicted to you.
From the second you let me kiss you, I’ve been obsessed.
I won’t let you push me away, even though that’s what you’ve been trying to do since the first day. I’m certain you’re supposed to be mine, Hope. And I’m just as certain, I’m already yours.