“Filming wrapped?”
Her plush lips curved into a rueful smile. “Yup, my usual celebration, along with catching up on all the laundry I’ve been putting off.”
I took comfort in the fact that her habits hadn’t changed dramatically in the time we’d been apart. As though it was a sign that all had not been lost yet.
Tilting my head toward the living room, I asked, “Do you mind if I sit?”
“No, that’s fine.”
I was hyperaware of her soft footsteps behind me. She took the wingback chair, and I dropped onto the couch where we’d cuddled together so many times. I held the envelope a little more tightly, all too aware of how much this interaction mattered.
I took a slow breath before speaking. “In the interest of being completely honest, I should tell you the letter was an exercise from my therapist. She asked me to write out what happened from your perspective.”
“I see,” she murmured, pulling her legs up so her knees were pressed against her chest and her feet were perched on the edge of the chair.
Seeing her defensive pose hurt my heart. I needed to move this along for her benefit. “She said the choice to share it with you was up to me, but once I was done, I knew it was the right thing to do. Even if knowing you’re going to read what I wrote makes me feel vulnerable as hell.”
Her eyes widened before her gaze dropped to the envelope again. “You’re sure you want to give it to me?”
“Not sure I’d call it want, more like need.” I shook my head and shrugged. “You deserve to know what’s in here, and that’s what’s important.”
She studied my expression for a moment before coming to a decision. “Then I guess you’d better hand it over.”
She stretched out her arm, and I gave her the envelope.
“You can take all the time you need. Or not read it at all. That’s completely up to you.”
“I know.” She didn’t open the envelope right away, holding it in her lap with trembling fingers.
Leaving was the last thing I wanted to do, but I felt like I had to offer. “Would you like me to go?”
“I don’t think that I do,” she whispered.
I hadn’t expected that answer. Honestly, I thought she’d take the envelope and send me on my way.
The fact that she wanted me to stay felt like a gift I hadn’t earned. Which made me even more determined not to waste it.
“Okay.”
I sat back slightly and waited until Lila finally opened the envelope. She read silently at first, her eyes moving across the page. Then she began reading certain lines out loud, her voice quiet.
“You stopped bringing your lunch to my office because you didn’t feel welcome there anymore.” Lila traced her finger over the page. “I didn’t even realize you’d noticed.”
When she looked up again, I met her gaze. “I did but explained it away as being too busy between work and wedding planning. But in hindsight, I realize it was because I handled everything so poorly after you stopped by and found Kaylee perched on the corner of my desk. I allowed the situation to continue even after you told me how it made you feel. I wasn’t truly listening.”
“That is unfortunately accurate,” she agreed, her fingers tightening slightly on the paper.
“Unfortunate doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I muttered.
“You started apologizing before telling me how you felt.” Lila’s eyes lingered on the page. “I don’t remember doing that.”
“You did.”
Her brow furrowed. “All the time?”
“Toward the end, yeah.”
Her brow wrinkled. “You make it sound like I was giving up.”
