That doesn’t mean it didn’t matter. It means it mattered too much.
I loved you so quickly, I didn’t realize I’d handed you every jagged piece of me until you were holding them like they’d always belonged together. And maybe that scared me most of all. Because I didn’t think I deserved that kind of love.
But I’m trying now.
Not for a relationship. Not even for redemption. For this baby.
I want to build something steady, solid as a bridge in a storm. A safe place where my child will never have to wonder if the ground will hold. I want to be the kind of mother who can’t be knocked down, but is still the softest place to land.
If love finds us after that—if it finds me—then maybe the tides will carry you to our shore.
I won’t ask for forgiveness. But if someday you find yourself reaching across the water, looking for the woman waving her white flag on a Savannah bank…
Know that I won’t be waving out of loneliness or regret.
I’ll be waving because I believe you’ll see me.
And if that day never comes—know this. Every kiss, every grin you tried to hide behind that beard, every late-night confession on a couch too small for what we felt. It was real.
I’ll raise this baby with the courage I found in your eyes.
The courage taught me that I might be worth loving.
And if you come ashore…
You’ll find us waiting.
Not broken pieces. But something whole.
Always waving,
Tally
Chapter Forty-Three
CHARLIE
Magnoliahandedtheletterback to me with both hands, like it was sacred. Or dangerous. Maybe both.
“Wow,” was all she said. Her voice barely carried above the rustle of the trees.
“Exactly,” Sutton muttered, beginning her fifth lap around the bench like a caged animal. “And exactly why we are still sitting on this bench in this damn square in Savannah and not jetting down the highway on our way to Newnan is beyond me.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The letter sat in my lap, my thumb rubbing across the spot where Tally had signed her name.Always waving.
“You’re gonna need to do something eventually, Charlie,” Sutton said, spinning on her heel and pointing at me. “Because sitting here looking like a heartbroken Labrador isn’t a strategy.”
“I’m thinking,” I said, though it sounded like a lie even to me.
Magnolia let out a quiet sigh, her eyes still fixed on the little fountain in the center of the square.
“Do you really think she wants to hear from me?” I asked. “That she meant any of that?”
Sutton threw her hands up. “God, men are exhausting. That letter was practically a love song and a GPS coordinate.”
“She’s not wrong,” Magnolia said, finally looking at me. “Tally doesn’t throw words around like that unless she means them. You know that.”
I shook my head. “It’s not that simple.”
