Chapter 19
COLIN
Ishoved my door closed with my shoulder while juggling a stack of mail. Naturally, the envelopes slipped from my grip and scattered across the kitchen floor as soon I came across a thick, huge envelope from Deja.
My phone was wedged between my ear and shoulder, one of our financial auditors droning on and on about third quarter projection somethings. “They’ll need reconciliation before the board review. We have to?—”
“I’ll call you back,” I said, not waiting for a response before I ended the call.
I slid a thumb across the indentations where Deja had written her return address.
I’d been waiting for this for over a week and my heart was suddenly pounding, a wide grin spreading across my lips.
When she’d first suggested snail mail as our primary form of correspondence for this month, I’d agreed because it’d sounded like it was important to her, but now that my first actual, paper letter from what might be my future wife had arrived, I had to admit that there was definitely something to it.
Tossing my phone down on the kitchen counter with a soft clatter, I tore open the envelope and was hit with a sneeze so sudden and violent that I nearly lost my balance. Another sneeze tore through me almost immediately after the first, followed by yet another.
“What,” I managed, pausing to sneeze again and blinking hard through watering eyes. “What is in this?”
Dried flower petals drifted out as I shook the contents free, but I wiped my eyes and unfolded the letter. Before I could read a single line, however, another wave of sneezing seized my insides.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, squinting at the page while trying not to breathe. That seemed to work, so I held my breath and read the opening line.
Dearest Colin,
I already know what you’re thinking and you’re right, this is a test. Consider it an experiment to see if you really are allergic to me.
I’ve sprayed this letter with my favorite perfume and if you’re sneezing as much as I think you are, then we’ve established that at least you’re not only allergic to me in person.
When I couldn’t hold my breath anymore, I sneezed again on my first inhale, my allergies acting up so instantly that it would’ve been funny if it didn’t mean that I was going to spend the rest of my life sneezing if we should ever share a bedroom.
Fuck.
I finally managed to see again after the next wave subsided, sitting down at the counter and smiling as I read about her first week back home. I could almost hear her voice in my ears as I read.
Alright, assuming you’ve survived opening the envelope and reading this far, I feel like I should warn you that Cairo is not like Chicago. As soon as I got off the plane, I realized how much louder it is here. You should be prepared for that.
It’s going to be a literal assault on your senses, but in the best possible way. At least, that’s how I feel about it. I hope you’ll feel the same.
As much as I’ll be spending more time in the States if this deal is done, Cairo will always be my home. I can’t wait to show you around.
As you can probably imagine, we’ve been busy since we got back. I’ve hardly even seen my father, but my mom has been watching me closely. I think she’s trying to make sure I’m alright, but I really am.
Jasmine, my sister, has been relentless about her teasing, but she’s looking forward to meeting you. Get ready for about a million questions when that happens. She’s convinced that I changed while we were over there and she’s holding you responsible.
Another sneeze cut through my reading and I winced but kept going.
I miss Chicago more than I thought I might. My days were slower there. I truly, genuinely adore my work, but I could do without the meetings, and the emails, and the constant admin that needs attention.
Admin has to be my greatest pet peeve. I’m terrible at it too, which doesn’t help make the thought of it any more alluring.
The highlight of my week so far has been a visit to the most gorgeous flower market right at the edge of the city. It’s one of my favorite places, a market I often get lost in for hours. I’ve sent you a souvenir of my visit.
The petals in the envelope suddenly made sense.
I held one between my fingers for a moment, even bringing it up to my nose while praying it wouldn’t make me sneeze again.
Thankfully, it didn’t, but I also couldn’t quite discern what was so special about it that she’d chosen to send it across an ocean.
The magical thing about these is that most often, just one scent alone might not seem like much, but when it’s combined with another that complements it perfectly, it suddenly becomes something incredibly special.
This might sound a bit sappy, but I’ve often thought that the best, strongest relationships are the same.
Two people who make each other better, who find that one person out of a billion who complements them so perfectly that it’s like they were always meant to be together. Maybe that’s part of why I love my job so much.
I get to try and make the perfect match every single day. Sometimes, I succeed, but even when I fail, I never give up, and eventually, we always find that one scent that turns another from ordinary, mediocre even, to exceptional.
That’s what I want out of life, I think. To go from ordinary to exceptional.
I’ll let you go now, but I’m looking forward to seeing you, Colin.
Yours Sincerely,
Deja.
I paused for a beat to swipe my tongue across my lips.
While it was encouraging that she looked forward to seeing me, she hadn’t explicitly said that our engagement was a go.
To be fair, it’d only been a week and I’d told her to take at least the rest of the month to think about it, but I couldn’t deny that I was slightly disappointed she hadn’t even mentioned where she was on that issue right now.
When I dropped my gaze back down, I noticed there was a post-script and I smiled.
P.S. I might be a secret photographer. Or maybe it’s just that I like to think of myself as one. My camera is ancient, but I sent you some of my recent work. Just some snapshots of the week since I last saw you. I hope you enjoy them!
I set the letter aside and reached into the envelope again, pulling out a thin stack of photographs that were mercifully only slightly bent from travel.
One by one, I looked through them, studying the picture of the flower market first. It’d been on top, so I assumed this was the order she’d wanted me to see them in.
She’d said that her camera was ancient, but the picture itself was amazing. It’d captured rows upon rows of color with sunlight cutting across flowers and greenery in a way that made it look unreal, like a garden from another dimension.
Photographs of people came next, Khaled arguing with someone and a candid shot of a young woman laughing. The next was photo of her and a woman I assumed was her mother. They weren’t identical, but they looked so much alike that they were unmistakably related.
Her mother had clearly been talking when she’d snapped this one and she was animated, the picture capturing her mid motion, which made me suspect she, too, spoke with her hands. Just like her daughter.
Deja was beside her, but she was laughing. A little out of focus behind them was the same young woman again, but this time, she was facing the camera, so I could see her features a little better. She looked like a daintier version of Deja herself, so she had to be the sister Deja had mentioned.
My gaze drifted back to Deja, her eyes twinkling with laughter and happiness written all over her face. I stared at that picture for a long time before I eventually set the photos down on the coffee table and stood up.
God, that woman is gorgeous. I couldn’t actually believe I might get to marry her, but before we could get there, I had to win her over first—and do whatever else her father had in mind.
I wasn’t thinking about him right now, though.
Her letter had been thoughtful and honest. Way better than any text could’ve been. I wanted to reciprocate, so I headed upstairs, going straight to my home office.
When I got there, I opened a drawer I rarely used and pulled out a clean sheet of paper. After setting it down on my desk, I sat down and picked up a pen.
I didn’t really have a plan, but something told me that was part of the point of this. She wanted us both to be real, to actually dig deep and let ourselves share things that were worthy of an international journey rather than just a quick shot through cyberspace.
She wanted something that couldn’t be deleted in a second. Something that might only come once pen was put to paper and actual thought started flowing, so I just began writing, figuring I could always toss out this attempt if it didn’t end up meaning anything at all.