“Seeing as you won’t help with the CCTV footage, I guess I just have to wait until they return, having seen the error of their ways. Or hope someone who knows who it belongs to sees my TikTok. Both seem like a long shot.”
"I don't know. How viral did the video go?"
"Imagine the population of China. Now imagine them with a child policy last seen in Catholic countries."
"That big, huh?"
"No word of a lie."
"I smell a pantload."
I grin into my glass before taking a sip. "I love the colourful way you call me out on my bullshit. Not many other people do."
"Call you out or do it creatively?"
"Both."
Ed smiles. "Well, it's my pleasure. There's just so much bullshit to choose from, Bess. You spoil me with the generosity at which you deliver it."
If he were closer, I'd give him a playful punch on the arm. "You find it endearing."
He settles lower into the lounger. "Unfortunately, I do."
After a beat, I say, "All I know for certain, is if someone wrote me a letter like that, I'd probably be in love with them in a heartbeat. Vetting be damned."
Ed chokes on his mouthful of gin.
"Are you okay? Want me to slap you on the back?"
He holds up a hand and shakes his head. When he has control of his breathing, he wipes his eyes. "Sorry. I'm, ah, just shocked to hear you express the sentiments of 'love' and 'willingness' in the same sentence."
"You can't be surprised. I've been lobbying for men to show this kind of romantic behaviour since I've known you."
"And yet, here I am." He pushes himself out of his lounger.
"Are you leaving already?"
"Yep," he wheezes out, followed by a cough.
"Really? You're not going to pass some droll comment about my aspirations, or offer a treatise on men not needing to go to extraordinarily lengths to prove themselves, or something? It's like I've scared you off."
Ed's smile looks brittle. "No. I just...have things to do before our art group tonight."
"Okay," I say without bothering to hide the suspicion in my voice. "Bye then."
He walks off with a controlled casualness that I'm ninety-nine percent sure is one hundred percent affected.
I offer the evening air a "Huh" and wonder if something is going on with Ed, or if I'm reading into things. Surely he'd tell me. I'm his best friend, after all.
I dismiss it. Ed is exactly the kind of person who's a proponent of clear and honest communication. If there was none, then there's no issue.
I close my eyes and drift back into the world of the letter.
The curved ridges of sand, miles of smooth undulations, look almost sensual. Like the naked body of a sleeping woman. Of you.
It's hot stuff. Poetic, but undeniably hot.
The sun lounger beside me squeaks.
