“There is nothing here for you. As much as our cherished smoothie sessions and Zumba classes should be a national treasure, it’s not a reason to keep you back. I’ll visit and hope Lake Spark has a police officer that I accidentally run into, and he spills my coffee and promises to buy me a new one, with his cute little dimples.” I flash her appreciation for trying to make me smile. “Look, your parents no longer live here, you can write anywhere, and I’m still not entirely sure why you want to be here, considering…” Compassion crosses her face.
I hate sympathy.
“Don’t say it,” I urge.
Flo gives me a pained look. “I’m going to. Do you ever think that… well, this is crazy and maybe I’m coming from left field here, but… you found your feet again here alone, as proof that someone didn’t kill your soul, and despite having had an uncontrollable fear, you’re still here, and it’s a point that makes you proud. But now… you have to face a new fear which isn’t even for something horrible, it’s amazing. A guy who wants to be there for you. You’re no longer doing anything alone.”
Doing my best, I tightly hold in the tremble of my lips that wants to erupt and keep the sting behind my eyes in check. “I’m not used to it, you know? It feels like forever since I could breathe and laugh and have something spectacular without a care in the world.” I jam the straw in my juice a few times to let out frustration. “I would be devastated if that just vanished. I don’t think I have it in me to rebuild yet again.”
Flo gently reaches to pause my destruction of the straw. “That’s an if. And you’re forgetting the not-so-tiny factor that you’re the one preventing what could very possibly be a spectacular future that lasts forever.”
“I know.” I have to smile softly to myself. “I love him.”
She nods slowly. “It’s obvious. You’re just overthinking it, when all you need to do is check in with what you’re feeling.”
My face screws. “Since when have you become a romantic guru?”
Flo chortles. “I’ve read almost all your books. How the hell does this all sound surprising to you? You literally write this stuff on a daily basis.”
“It’s make believe,” I protest.
“Yeah, all the more reason to hold on and never let go, since it isn’t a fantasy.”
I claw my hair and groan. “I am aware of that. Even if I run right into his arms, I still feel guilty for making him wait, probably in agony too.”
She laughs and it’s vibrant. “Isn’t this where your grand gesture comes in?”
I snicker at her thought. “If I decide to move, then yes. Whatever my decision, I’ll see him. He’ll always be the man who changed my life.”
“Then run. Straight to him.”
And yet again, I’m preoccupied with my thoughts.
* * *
Sitting in my living room,giving up completely on any work tasks that I planned on doing, I decide to turn my phone back over. Swiping my screen, I pull up photos.
My lips twist when I see the pictures of Stone and me in my gallery folder that seems to have grown as the months together progressed. Content is the first word that comes to mind. That and the love in our eyes when we look at one another with no effort. A natural filter that is fixed to every one of our pictures.
Opening my laptop, I pull up his name to write.
Stone,
I promise I’m thinking. I guess it’s not about the brain, though. Probably more to do with the heart.
Needless to say, I’ve been in a “lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling” kind of mood. My current music playlist is kind of melancholy.
Whatever happens, happens. I’ll come to see you one last time or for the start of forever.
Have you put me in a power play, where the game is down to one player and one team has an advantage to win? The answer to that is very clear.
I love you.
Harlow
P.S. Letters are our thing. Okay, emails. Damn, I wish for the times when you would write by candlelight with a feathered quill that you need to keep dipping in ink. The good ole' days. I’m sure a modern couple would actually use text with weird eggplant emojis. That’s not us.
* * *
