“Interesting,” he says. “I came here looking for a woman who moved away from Connecticut.”
I narrow my eyes, confused, and wondering how much smaller these odds will get before something makes sense to me. “What’s her name?” My hands are trembling beneath my table.
“I don’t know her last name, or I’m not sure of it, I should say, but her first name is Rose.”
Rose. How many American women in this small little village could have the name, Rose? “Oh,” I gasp a bit and press my hand to my chest. “My name is Rose.”
“Was, or is your last name, Cameron?”
This is becoming less ironic and more pointed, but I have never seen this man in my life. “Yes, it is still Cameron,” I say, which has been my typical response anytime I’m forced to focus on the fact that I have not changed my last name back to my maiden name yet.
“Really?” The man seems shocked, whereas I was sure he knew me or knew who he had sat down next to, but now it seems more like a planned coincidence—if there is such a thing.
“Yes, that’s me, Rose Cameron. Do I know you?”
The man closes his eyes as if to put together his thoughts. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t planning to run into you in a coffee shop of all places. However, I did come here to find you.”
I just spoke to my parents last night, so I know they’re okay, which is the only real reason I would worry about someone from the states traveling over here to find me. Even still, we have phones and plenty of forms of communication, so I’m back to being confused as to why anyone in the world would travel across seas to find me.
“I’m Colton Bryer,” he says, reaching his hand out for me to shake.
I reach between our two tables and reciprocate the handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Also, I’m in love with your words.”
My breath becomes short. I’m startled, numb, and my chest has millions of little flutters tickling me from the inside. “My words? You’re a fan of my blog?” Should I be concerned about this? Never, in my wildest dreams did I ever consider having a fan for my blog, of all things. I know I have active viewers each day, but hardly any comments.
“I didn’t know you had a blog,” he says, staring at me as if he knows me. He’s smiling like I just said something he’s been waiting to hear, and I’m utterly confused.
“Well, pardon my confusion, but how do you know me?”
Colton reaches into his zipped-up fleece and pulls out a stack of envelopes. “I know this is inappropriate and out of line, but the envelopes were not made out to anyone in particular. They only had my address on the front, so I opened each letter, finding your words inside—finding your pain, and grief.”
Again, the need to gasp is strong, but for a moment, I feel humiliated that someone else received my letters. “Wait, do you know Frankie?”
Colton nods his head. “I mean, I met him for a few seconds when he gave me a tour of his house. He sold his house, and I bought it.”
I wouldn’t know that because I didn’t read much of Frankie’s emails. “Oh, I used to live there,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says. “I figured it all out—well most of it. The part I haven’t figured out is if Frankie was just dumb, or if he was blind and dumb.”
My cheeks are becoming warm, hot even. I’m blushing. I haven’t blushed in years. “He wasn’t blind, but he was dumb,” I counter.
“I’d say so, but I don’t mean this rudely—if I had a wife that looked like you, I wouldn’t be looking elsewhere.”
“Thank you for saying that. I guess not all involved parties would agree, but it is what it is, right?” I’m putting aside the fact that this man read all my letters, likely assuming they weren’t for him after he received the first.
“Why were you reading all of those letters? I’m sure you knew they weren’t for you after the first one, right?” I don’t want to be rude to this man. He obviously has a reason for finding me—flying to a different country to find me.
“Well, my wife walked out on me for similar reasons. Supposedly, she hadn’t cheated, but worse, she fell in love with some guy at work. It broke my heart—I was just a mess, and your words—they comforted me, made me feel like I wasn’t alone in feeling as miserable as I was.”
My heart hurts for Colton because I would never wish my pain upon anyone else, no matter what the circumstance. “I’m so sorry you have been going through the same kind of pain. It’s unbearable.”
“Why did you come here?” he asks.
“I ran away, and it was the best decision I have ever made.”
“I’m sorry if this is out of the blue and weird. Honestly, I don’t know why I felt it was so important to travel out here to find you, but I kind of felt like I was running away too, and it seemed like a good idea, even if it was just temporary.”