“Wait. Hold on.” She blinks at me. “Hekissedyou?! You never told me that!”
I shift my weight, suddenly fascinated by a crack in the countertop. “You didn’t exactly ask.”
“Brittany.” Her voice slows, sharpens. “You’re telling me,now,that your mysterious, letter-writing, Superman-cape-sending pen pal kissed you, and you just … skipped over that part?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “It didn’t feel like something I could just … summarize.”
She carefully sets the letter down. “Okay, then don’t. How was it?”
“It was … just a kiss,” I say.
Even to my own ears, it sounds like a lie I’ve outgrown.
Harlee crosses her arms, unimpressed.
I let out a breath. “Okay, fine. It was…” I search for the words, my stomach fluttering as the memory rises. “It was the kind of kiss that makes the whole world go quiet. Like everything else backed away and it was just … him. His hands were warm, steady. And for a second, I just felt … safe.”
Her expression softens.
“It was the best kiss I’ve ever had,” I admit.
“Okay,” she says quietly. “Yeah. That changes things.”
She picks the letters back up, scanning them again with new eyes.
“This man is very much into you,” she says, tapping the Saint Patrick’s one. “And you don’t kiss someone like that if you’re indifferent.”
She continues flipping through them, one after another, her smile fading into something more thoughtful. When she reaches the most recent one, her expression changes.
“This one’s different.”
“Different how?” I ask.
“He’s not leaning the same way.” She taps the page lightly. “The others feel … open. This one feels … careful.”
My stomach dips. “So, you think he doesn’t care anymore?”
She looks up at me. “No. I think he cares a lot, that’s why it’s careful.”
The words settle slower than the rest.
“This doesn’t read like someone pulling away,” she continues. “It reads like someone who’s trying not to cross a line.”
A line I drew.
The realization presses in quietly. I stare at his handwriting—at how familiar it feels. At how much space he’s left.
“You wanted space,” Harlee says gently. “And it looks like he gave it to you.”
My throat tightens. “So, you think this is … respect?”
“I think this is restraint.”
Silence settles between us, filled only by the distant city noise outside my windows.
“And you can tell all that from thewayhe wrote the letter? Like his handwriting?” I murmur.
Harlee shrugs. “I mean, like I said, I’m basically a professional. I took a wholeoneclass on it. You can pretty much bet your life on it.”
