“It’s true. I need to think about next steps . . . so not adding a relationship to the mix actually works for me. This has been one of the things I’ve been looking forward to all year in the midst of chaos.”
He nods. “Same.”
“Elaborate.” I take a bite of my cauliflower mash and sautéed carrots that they do so well every year. My mouth is so full, there’s no way I’ll be able to talk about anything, so it’s his turn.
“Well, for starters, I live in Alaska.”
My eyes widen.
“Not that there aren’t women in Alaska. I’m just focused on my job right now. Kodiak’s station is my dream, and I’m there now. I won’t do anything to jeopardize it.”
“Oh, and a girlfriend would?”
He ponders my question for a moment. “I’m an all-in kinda guy, Hales, and right now, I can only be all in at my job.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I need hope. I need something to look forward to, and you agreeing to see me today was the light I needed to make it out of the darkness of this year. My beacon of light at sea.”
I smile at him, trying to bring some comfort to this situation. “Nobody has ever called me their hope before. I’m flattered.”
He tsks. “I’m serious. I’m gonna have to find some hope for this year too, and you, at the very least, are a very beautiful hope to look forward to.” He blinks and smiles with his perfect, straight white teeth putting mine to shame. There’s somethingso appealing about a man with good hygiene in general, but good teeth? Yes, please.
“At the risk of sounding needy, we can do this again if you want.”
“I can’t stop you from finding a partner, Hailey. I appreciate you holding out for a year to meet me here, but I can’t do that again, and I can’t offer you companionship.”
“Who says I held out for a year?” I arch an eyebrow, pretending to radiate the confidence I definitely don’t feel.
“You being here with me . . . or do you have a boyfriend back home?”
I laugh lightly, shaking my head. “Relax. I was kidding. No boyfriend. I haven’t met anyone, and I’m open too. I’m fine keeping this . . . arrangement. If we don’t meet anyone else, we can still see each other in a year.”
It sounds reasonable in theory, but I already know it’s a ridiculous plan. A practical person would cut their losses, not cling to someone they’ve only seentwice.
No.
Three times. Averypractical person would get to know this man better before making pacts like some lovesick Jane Austen character.
“I do have one condition, though.”
He crosses his leg over his knee, and my eyes betray me by darting straight to his lap. Not my proudest moment. I rememberexactlywhat’s there.
“I’m listening,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“No celibacy clause,” I declare firmly, like I’m laying down constitutional law.
“We both have needs. I refuse to spend eleven months repressing mine just because I’m waiting to hang out with you. That’s unhealthy.”
“Agreed,” he replies instantly. Bless rational men.
“Good. And . . . we actually get to know each other. Friendship, maybe. Connection, sure. I practically levitated when I got your letter, so clearly, there’s something here worth exploring beyond, you know, your physical anatomy.” My smile carries all the meaning I’m implying.
He nods. “I love letters. That sounds good.”
I blink. “We have texting. FaceTime. We’re not in the nineteen-hundreds you know?”
He tips his head, hand brushing his perfectly trimmed beard, studying me like I’m an exhibit at a museum. “I do love letters. My parents never allowed mail. They even opened the letters from my teachers. So as soon as I became an adult?—”
