The next day, there’d been an adorable stuffed teddy bear dressed in a Hawks jersey with the number thirty on it and Holmes on the back. The accompanying note had read, “I know how much you love my bear hugs, so I sent you a friend to cuddle with. I love you. F.”
The following day, he’d sent some Polaroids of Bacon and Biscuit, as well as a note they’d “written,” telling me how much they loved, appreciated, and missed me. It was all so incredibly sweet. And it only made me feel worse about how I’d been acting lately.
Sullen. Withdrawn.
And when he’d suggested that we move in together, I’d said, “Can I think about it?”
Can I think about it?I wanted to go back and kick myself for that answer.
What was there to think about? I loved him. He loved me. We wanted to be together.
And yet…I’d hesitated.
And Ihatedthat I’d hesitated. Because I saw how much it had hurt Frasier, when that was the last thing I’d wanted.
Here he was, reaching out. Despite how I’d pushed him away, Frasier kept showing up, kept showing me just how much he loved me.
I stood, going over to the kitchen to open the latest missive. I had no idea what could be inside, but I was excited to find out.
I grabbed a pair of scissors from a kitchen drawer and sliced open the box. Inside was a gorgeous bouquet that had been grown by local farmers. While Allie set to work putting the flowers in a vase, I plucked the card from the inside.
Apart from the occasional text, Frasier’s notes had been our only source of contact since I’d arrived in Boston. I’d been busy with Allie and my conference, and the time change didn’t help. But I sensed that he was giving me space while trying to reassure me that he was there for me. I loved him all the more for it.
Bryn,
I chose these flowers because they symbolize resilience, growth, hope, and love.
We have grown through so many challenges together, and I am always amazed by your strength and resilience.
Love,
Frasier
I burst into tears. Allie guided me over to the couch, setting the bouquet on top of the coffee table.
“Okay,” she huffed, hugging me to her side. “I’ve been patient all week. With the gifts and the notes and the puffy eyes. I’ve tried to give you space, but I can’t take it anymore. What is going on? Why is Frasier love bombing you?”
“I—” I shook my head, covering my face with my hands. I couldn’t stop crying, even though the idea that Frasier was love bombing me was laughable. “He’s not love bombing me.”
“Okay,” Allie said, dragging out the word as she placed her hand on my back. “Did he do something stupid? Are you guys fighting? Did you break up?”
“No.” I sniffled. “No. Nothing like that.”
If anything, I should be the one sending him gifts and love letters. I’d been all over the place lately, and it wasn’t fair to him. Every time a new gift or note arrived from Frasier, I felt equal parts guilt and relief. And every day, I melted a little more, falling even harder for this man.
“I’m glad to hear that, because I really did not want to have to hurt him.” She pounded her fist into her palm.
I laughed at that, but it came out as more of a snort. The idea of Allie even trying was comedic. She was a foot shorter than him.
“Frasier’s done—” I hiccupped around a sob “—nothing wrong and everything right.”
“Okay,” she said, dragging out the word. “So then, why all the daily gifts? Why all the tears?”
“Because apparently that’s what happens when you’re pregnant.” I threw my hands into the air. “You turn into an emotional mess.”
My eyes widened when I realized what I’d just admitted. Not to Frasier, the father of my child. But to my sister.
Allie stilled. “Bryn,” she whispered. “You’re…pregnant?”
