I try to pretend I’m listening.
I try to act normally.
But my mind is a scary place, and it is going to some dark corners, wondering about what is in this letter. I’m so in my head that I didn’t even realize I’m gripping my napkin so hard it’s scrunched into a tight little ball until Charlie’s fingers slip under the table and pry it gently out of my hand.
He doesn’t look at me.
Doesn’t draw attention.
He just softens his palm against my knee, in one quiet, steady touch.
That almost undoes me. I want to lean into him. Tell him everything. But not here. Not in front of his parents.
“Derrick?” his mum says warmly. “What do you think of the dessert menu? They do the most divine lemon meringue here.”
I blink, lost. “Oh … uh … sounds amazing.”
We say goodbye to Charlie’s parents, who are wonderful, and I feel bad that I wasn’t one hundred percent myself. Charlie’s hand slides into mine as we walk toward the car the valet has just brought around, his thumb rubbing gently over my knuckles like he already knows I’m barely holding it together. He helps me into his truck and gives me a quick peck, and I watch him walk around and get in. He turns the ignition, and we take off into the weekend traffic.
His jaw is tight, his eyes searching mine with a level of concern that nearly cracks me open. “D,” he says softly. “Talk to me.”
I stare out the windshield, needing a minute to breathe.
“It … could be nothing,” I say.
“But it must be something to have you this distracted during lunch.” My knee starts again, and he calmly places his hand on it. “What’s happened?” he asks. “Is it Sienna? The kids? Work?” His voice gets softer. “Is it … us?”
“No,” I say instantly. That part I’m sure of. “Not us. Never us.”
His exhale is relief and worry tangled together. “Then what?”
I swallow. Hard. “I’ve received a letter,” I whisper.
He blinks. “A letter?”
“From Australia.” My throat tightens. “Addressed to my old name.”
His brows draw together. “Your old name?”
“When I turned eighteen and left behind my old life, I changed my surname from Joneson to Jones. I wanted nothing tying me to my family.”
His confusion shifts quickly into understanding, then into something sharper. Protective. “Derrick …” He squeezes my hand like he’s anchoring me. “What did it say?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Sienna and Evan are coming over tonight to open it with me. She thought it would be better if we opened it together.”
He nods. “Do you want me to be there?”
“Would you?”
“Of course.” He smiles, lifting my hand to his lips as he kisses my knuckles. “You and me.”
“What happens if it’s something bad?”
“Won’t change how I feel about you,” he reassures me. “Do you know who it’s from?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s all a mystery.”
He nods. “We’ll deal with it tonight.Together.I don’t care if it’s your old name, your past, your childhood, whatever the fuck it is, nothing in that letter changes how I feel about you.”
