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Dear Everett,
I’m sending you these beautiful Southern red roses because I want you to know that you’re the love of my life, and I can’t wait to get married next year.
I’m so happy we met on that random August morning for coffee, that a random “We can share the last cookie,” turned into so much more…
The way you kiss me, the way you hold me, and the way you fuck me runs through my mind all the time and never fails to make me smile. (or soaking wet :-) )
I’m looking forward to starting a new life and a family together.
Forever Writing You,
Carmen
My stomach dropped.
“Forever writing you” was our line.
Sure, we ended on such terrible terms that I still woke up some nights in tears and wished we could start all over again, but I’d never written those words to any other man I’d dated.
How could he ever say them to someone else?
Out of habit, I pulled out my phone and scrolled to my mother’s name.
Before I hit dial, I remembered.
She wasn’t here to answer…
Ignoring the tears that fell past my cheeks, I picked up a pair of scissors and snipped roses for Everett’s fiancée.
As I measured the stems, the rain fell harder and crashed through the grated ceiling.
Fuck…
TWO
Everett
The Hudson Yards’ skyscrapers stretched their gleaming silver arms and welcomed me home.
Well, “home” for the last weekend, anyway.
As I pulled into my condo's parking garage, a black and grey blur struck my windshield.
What the hell? I slammed the brakes.
“Mr. Anderson! Stop!” It was a journalist, and he was clinging to the hood of my car.
I honked my horn at him.
“I’ve been trailing you all week!” He shouted, pressing a hand against the glass. “I’m not leaving without you telling me something I can report.”
“I could’ve killed you…”
“But you didn’t.” He’d read my lips perfectly. “Are you going to give me something or not?”
Jesus Christ. I rolled down the window and motioned for him to move to the driver's side.
“How excited are you about finally settling down and getting married?” he asked.
