Chapter Forty-Four
Brooklyn
He promised to come to my doctor’s appointment.
He left a note promising me, but I’m a ball of nerves.
I didn’t think I'd wake up alone the next morning after we were together at the cabin. There were flowers waiting for me when I got home and more sent each day with notes saying he misses me, he can’t wait to see me again, he’s counting down the minutes.
I want to believe with everything I am that this will work out, but there’s a nagging in the back of my mind. I don’t know him – not in the way I need. He’s never let me in. There’s something dark in his past, and it’s keeping us from moving forward.
But the fact is - I love him.
I’ve been fighting it, but there it is – I love him. No matter if I want to or not; there’s no choice. I just love him, but love isn’t always enough. We have to figure out how to co-parent, how to be partners for this baby. That’s the most important thing. My heart will mend eventually.
I’m still on Christmas break, so I’m working on a few projects around my house when I hear a knock at the door.
My heart nearly bursts when I open it. He’s standing with flowers and a big box, his face full of hope.
Damn it, I’ve just given myself a speech on how my feelings don’t matter.
My stomach is fluttering as he holds out the flowers.
“Thank you. I didn’t think you would be in town until tomorrow.”
“I was able to get things done earlier than I thought. Can I come in?”
He follows me inside. I place the flowers in the center of the table with the others and then laugh, “I’m not going to have anywhere to eat if you keep giving me flowers.”
A smile grows across his face as he steps closer to me. “I’ve missed you.”
I don’t answer. I’m so torn. I want to fall into his arms, surrender to him; but I also need to be responsible.
He notices the concern on my face and doesn’t come any closer. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.” I nod over to the living room. I sit on the couch, and he sits across from me in a chair. He sets the box between us and rubs his hands on his thighs nervously.
“What’s in the box?” I ask.
His eyes meet mine. “Letters.”
My eyebrow arches, and he continues, “I started writing you letters after you left this Fall. I’ve thought about sending them to you, but it just never seemed right. I’d like to read them to you now if that’s okay.”
“Of course.” My heart is pounding. I’m glad he’s not sitting closer to me. He opens the box and pulls out a big stack of paper.
“You’ve been busy.”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” he says without looking up. He clears his throat and starts reading the first one.
Brooklyn,
I’m better at writing than talking, so I’ve decided to write you letters.
You were here last week. It felt like you’d come home to me, and then you left.
My heart is shattered. I can’t eat or sleep.
I should pick up the phone. I should fly across the country and beg on my knees for you to be with me, but I can’t.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the things you said before you left.
You don’t know me. I’m keeping too many secrets.
You are right. I have put a wall up. A lot has happened the last few years, and I’ve shut down. I haven’t had a reason to move past everything, but now I do. Brooklyn, I don’t know how to tear down this wall, but I’m going to try. You deserve more than I’ve given you.
We deserve more.
I miss you.
Kip
My throat feels dry all the sudden, and my eyes feel wet. I blink a few times. I wasn’t expecting any of this. His eyes flick up to mine, and I nod for him to continue.
Brooklyn,
I wanted you to know I’ve made an appointment with a therapist. It’s time. It’s overdue.
Kip
He doesn’t look up. He flips to the next letter and continues reading.
Brooklyn,
Therapy sucks.
Kip
I let out a loud laugh and then cover my mouth. Without looking up, his mouth quirks a little, and he just continues reading.
Brooklyn,
Blue misses you. So do I.
Kip
He sets down the papers and says, “He sends his apologies for tripping you.”
“I forgave him a long time ago. Keep going.”
He looks at the next one and flinches slightly before he starts to read.
Brooklyn,
You know what I did the first time I met with the therapist?
I cried...for forty five minutes. I didn’t cry when my dad died.
I didn’t cry when my sister or my mom died.
I didn’t cry during my divorce. I can’t remember the last time I cried.
I must have been a child. My father didn’t believe in men crying or even little boys.
I remember him smacking Hawk for crying after he fell off his bike.
I don’t know how I feel about any of it. Well, I do know how I feel. I feel like shit now, but I know it’s the only way out. I know it’s the only way back to you.
Kip
I want to be closer to him. I want to wrap him in my arms. I want to take away the pain he carries, but I stay still and let him continue.
Brooklyn,
I asked Hawk to eat dinner with me at Head and Tail once a week. He’s confused as hell. I’m trying. It’s not easy.
Kip
He moves to the next page and resumes reading.
Brooklyn,
I keep wondering when I’ll send you these letters.
Not yet. I’m not ready yet. I’m not close to being ready.
You deserve so much more than I can give you right now.
I want to be the man you need, and I know I’m not.
I met with my therapist again. This time I spent thirty minutes crying and fifteen minutes talking. Progress?
Kip
I smile and say, “Sounds like progress to me.”
He nods and turns to the next page.
Brooklyn,
I wrote for the first time in years. I’ve been staring at a blank computer screen for nearly four years, and I actually wrote something the other day.
I started writing three days ago, and it just poured out of me.
I’m not overthinking it. I haven’t worried about whether it’s good, or whether anyone will want to read it, or whether my publisher will ever want it.
I’ve just let the words come. I’ve done nothing else for three days.
I’ve had to force myself to stop and sleep.
I’m running on black coffee and adrenaline, but it feels good.
Kip
There’s a glow spreading across my chest. My fingers are twitching to touch him, but I’m forcing myself to stay still as he reads the next letter.
Brooklyn,
Met with my therapist today. Talked about my dad. I’d like to share more with you, but I’m too spent right now. I’m halfway through my novel though. I’ve never written anything this quickly.
Kip
He flips to the next letter.
Brooklyn,
Hawk and I had dinner last night. No punches were thrown. Progress.
Kip
I laugh again, and he chuckles.
Brooklyn,
I miss you. I miss everything about you. I miss the way you like your toast just a little burned. I miss the way you hum when you chop onions. I miss the way you steal all the covers.
“I do not!” I interrupt.
“You do. I don’t mind.”
I just shake my head, and he ignores me.
I miss your laugh. I miss your smell. I miss the way your hair falls around my face when we’re together. I dream about you every night. The only time I’m not thinking about you is when I’m writing. I wish you were here. I wish we’d parted differently.
Kip
His eyes float up to mine and hold on me for a moment. Electricity seems to fill the air. I stand up quickly. “Do you want water? I need some water.”
“Sure,” he says slowly. I walk into the kitchen and pour two glasses. My hands are shaking as I carry them back and place them on the table. Neither of us touches them.
Brooklyn,
I finished. I finished a whole novel in just over two weeks.
“What?” I cut in.
He looks up. “Yeah. Surprised the hell out of me too.”
It’s rough around the edges, but a complete story.
I sent it to my agent and publisher. They love it.
I’m flying to D.C. in a few days to meet with them.
I’ve debated back and forth about whether to call you.
I want to see you, but I’m not ready to see you.
You deserve more than I can give you right now.
Kip
“I don’t want to read the next ones.” He picks up his water and takes a long sip. We both know what’s coming next, and to his credit, he keeps reading.
Brooklyn,
I saw you in D.C. You were on a fucking date.
I’ve never felt jealousy like that - white-hot, blinding rage when I spotted his hand on the small of your back.
I wanted to rip his arm from his body. I can’t believe you’ve moved on.
I know you told me it was temporary. You never promised anything differently, but I thought what we had was special. I guess it wasn’t.
I don’t know why I’m writing you any longer.
Kip
He doesn’t look up, flipping to the next letter without a pause.
Brooklyn,
I keep thinking about you and your date. Picturing you with him. Wondering if he appreciates how lucky he is.
Kip
Still looking down, he moves on to the next.
Brooklyn,
I was a dick to you when I saw you in D.C.
I probably ended anything that could have ever started again between us by being a jealous asshole.
We aren’t together. You don’t owe me anything.
I treated you horribly. I’m sorry. I had no right.
I wish I could take back the words I said.
I couldn't believe how much it hurt to see you with someone else. It felt worse than a death. I wanted you to feel as badly as I did. It was wrong. I’m ashamed of the things I said.
I’m ashamed of the way I acted. I know words alone can’t fix things, but I’m sorry.
Kip
“Kip...”
“Just wait. I need to finish this part.”
Brooklyn,