There’s the soft murmur of masculine voices down the hall, but I don’t pay it any attention as I continue sorting the mail into cubbies. There are dozens of letters, and it’s getting late. I still have to drive home tonight.
I put the last letter away and turn to Lauren.
“I’d love to get mail like this,” I say softly. “It would make me feel special.”
I don’t tell her that I spent years at boarding school never hearing from my parents and watching other girls get care packages, letters, and notes from home. It wasn’t lost on me even back then that no one missed me.
“Hey.” Lauren steps forward and nudges my shoulder with hers. “You okay?”
I blink away the sheen of moisture in my eyes and nod. “Yeah, it’s just been a long couple of weeks.”
“Settling into a new town and a new place is hard,” she agrees. “Let’s get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”
It turns out that Lauren was right. Things do look better the next morning. I eat a quick breakfast of cereal from Lauren’s cabinet. She offers to let me borrow one of her vintage dresses, but I put on a pair of scrubs. I’m doing rounds today, and I’d rather not be worried about soiling a pretty outfit of hers.
“I’m insanely jealous of your commute,” I tell her as I walk down the hall with her.
She chuckles. “It is one of the perks. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”
She heads to her desk in the reception area while I go to my office area to check in and begin my work for the day. On my desk, there is a brown envelope with a wax seal. The envelope has my name scrawled on it.
My first thought is that Lauren left me a letter. I settle at my desk, unable to keep the smile from my lips. But when I open the message, it’s instantly obvious that Lauren didn’t write it.
Dear Bree,
My first thought when I woke up this morning was you. It’s your smile that gets me. It’s like sunshine, warming me up and making me want to bask in its light.
I’m jealous when you give it to other people. I want to be the one who earns all of your smiles, who gets to hear about your hopes and dreams, who listens to all the stories about your day.
I saw the wistful expression cross your face when you were putting mail in the cubbies last night. It made me think that maybe no one has ever taken the time to send you a letter, to tell you that you matter. If that’s true, I want to be the first.
You make my world brighter just by existing. It’s more than your easy smile or your laugh—though I love that sound. It’s my new favorite soundtrack, and I find myself wishing I could play it on repeat when I’m alone and you’re not here.
When we’re apart, I’m counting down the minutes until I see you again. Yeah, I know it’s corny, but it’s true. The evenings without you are endless. I want to wrap my arms around you and hold you all night long.
You deserve that. You deserve someone that holds you through the night and makes you feel like the most cherished woman in the world. You deserve to be loved and treasured today, every day, and for the rest of time.
I wish the man doing that could be me. But since it can’t be, I’m writing this letter. I don’t want anything from you. I’m not expecting a response. I just wanted you to know how beautiful and special you are.
Forever yours,
Your secret admirer
After I finish reading the letter, I can’t help running my fingers across the page, tracing the lines, and wondering who sent it. Who would have taken the time to write me such a sweet, romantic note?
Chapter 4
Dalton
I watch through the window as Bree’s expression changes. When she first spies the letter, there’s nothing but curiosity on her face.
She slides the letter opener across the wax seal, breaking it. I didn’t even know they still made wax seals, but it was in the letter writing kit that Lizzy from the One More Chapter bookstore recommended.
I swore her to secrecy, explaining she couldn’t tell anyone. She put a hand on her chest and teared up while the other hand went to cup her growing baby bump. That’s when her over-the-top husband, Noah, came rushing over to glare at me.
I quickly paid for my order and got the fuck out of there.
There’s a reason most of the men in town avoid the bookstore, and it has nothing to do with Lizzy. She’s friendly and a great bookseller, but her husband is crazy possessive and quickly runs off the male customers, so we don’t hang around too much.
