Turning my head for the clock, I notice a matching cup steaming on the nightstand. I grunt and throw the blankets off my legs as Missy leaves the room. I take a moment to stretch the sleep from my body before reaching for my coffee. I’m going to need all the caffeine I can get my hands on today. I spent half the night tossing and turning, waking with every creak and thump the house made.
The smell of fresh cooked eggs and bacon permeate down the hallway as my cup and I make our way into the kitchen. Missy is standing at the stove. She looks up and greets me with another smile.
“Good morning,” her voice is warm and motherly. I grunt, sitting down on the bar stool across from her. She chuckles. “Not a morning person I see.”
I can’t help shooting her an annoyed glare.
“Are you hungry? I’m just about finished with these eggs. I don’t know what you like so I kept it simple. Eat up, we’ve got a busy day ahead of us,” she stirs the eggs, glancing up at me every so often. I pat my stomach, surprised to discover I am hungry. I guess I’m finally used to eating again.
Glancing around the room I take notice of the cute kitschy knick knacks and how everything is placed perfectly with no particular order. The kitchen isn’t top of the line like Hudson’s but it is cozy and I’m sure Missy has chosen everything carefully and for a reason. Her entire home has that feeling and I like it.
I take a sip of my coffee, my eyes slowly trailing around the room. I notice a small duffle bag sitting next to the backdoor. I sit up when I recognize it’s mine.
“Hudson brought that by after you turned in,” she purposely keeps her eyes from me and I’m grateful, I can only imagine what the dumbstruck look plastered all over my face looks like.
I shake my head, trying to ignore the warmth suddenly blooming in my belly. Hudson’s thoughtfulness was doing a mixture of things to me and I wasn’t sure what to think of it. Missy looks at me and I’m sure she sees the confusion, the frustration and the adoration on my face since she takes my hand in hers.
“He can be a serious pain in the ass, I know, but he’s also one of the most thoughtful men on the planet,” she smiles brightly at me and I can’t help giving her one back. “I know you’re questioning everything Alice, I don’t blame you but you have to believe me when I tell you everything will work out. I know Hudson but if you just give him time and be patient, you’ll see what I’m talking about. Los Angeles happened to both of you for a reason. You being here now with us, is meant to be. Can you trust that?”
I nod, mesmerized by her uncanny ability to read my mind.
“Patience, Alice, because once you get past all the shit, he will blow your mind.”
Was that what I wanted? To have my mind blown by Hudson?
She slides the pad of paper towards me, “Say it.”
I lift up the pen, reluctantly, and begin to write.
He doesn’t want me that way.
“Not true,” her voice is calm and her words intense. She crosses the room to the bag, lifts it up and sets it down on the counter in front of me. “He’s just not ready to admit it yet and neither are you.”
She turns and walks out of the room, calling out to me as she goes, “Check the pocket, he wrote you a note.”
I swallow the last of my coffee in a hurry, grateful it has cooled enough to keep from burning my throat. He left me a note? My stomach feels hollow and my nerves are firing on all counts. Reaching into the side pocket of the bag and I feel a folded piece of paper that wasn’t there yesterday. It was his note. I want to pull it out, scour every word of it a hundred times but I don’t. I can’t, not yet. So I sit with my hand in the pocket, touching the letter for what seems like hours.
Maybe Hudson would blow my mind but he’d be wasting it on me. It wouldn’t be fair if I let anyone believe I was worthy of his attention. I don’t know why Missy insists we have feelings for each other. We don’t. We can’t.
I’m a stranger to him and he is to me.
And yet…he left me note. Why would he do that?
Finally feeling brave enough, I pull the sheet of paper out of the pocket. I can see the dark scrawls of his handwriting, the page folded neatly in half. I can tell he has nice handwriting for a man, legible but not overtly male. I stare down at it, waiting for it to strike me like a snake. It doesn’t. I take a deep breath, unfold the page and begin reading.
Alice,
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for not appreciating you. I’m sorry for thinking out loud and I’m sorry for what those thoughts were. Mostly I’m sorry I chased you away.
The truth is, you unhinge me and I don’t know how to react to it. It frightens me how much I crave your presence, even if you’re only ever silent. You make me feel like I can do anything, overcome anything and I haven’t felt this way in a long time.