Page 2 of Love at First Write

Pity.

“I don’t know who you’ve been writing to, but it hasn’t been me. Sorry, kid.”

Kid.

Oh God. He really hasn’t been writing me. He doesn’t have any idea what I’m talking about.

Kill me now.

Why can’t this be when the aliens come and invade? Or a wormhole opens to swallow me whole? Any of those options are acceptable right now. Instead, I just stand there staring at him, knowing that my face is probably a shade close to my red hair.

Thankfully Caroline comes to my rescue, making a silly quip about me not taking my meds and herding me to the kitchen.

I start pacing, something I tend to do when I’m overwhelmed. Either pace or bake.

“There’s got to be a reasonable explanation for this,” Caroline says. “We saw some of the emails and letters you shared with us. You were clearly communicating with someone.”

I stop and stare at her. “You know what this is? This is the Blankenship curse. We’ve always been unlucky in love.”

“Oh, here we go,” Gracie says from the doorway. She glances at Caroline.

“Yes, here we go. I know y’all don’t believe me. But it’s true. My family has absolutely terrible luck with relationships.”

“Except your parents who have been happily married for the last twenty plus years?” Gracie says.

“They are the exception. The only exception.” I thunk my head down on the cold marble countertop. “How could I have been such an idiot?”

An idiot who stereotypically crushed on her high school best friend’s older brother. Then asked for his address to send him a care package from home. That’s how it had all started. Two years ago, I sent Tommy a big box filled with goodies and a handwritten letter from me.

I hadn’t expected him to write me back.

But he had.

We’d kept the letters up for a few months before he suggested we switch to email since that would be easier for him when he was on a mission. A SEAL. A real, honest-to-goodness, bad-ass hero, writing me. That should have been my first clue that something was amuck. Especially when he’d started talking about feelings and the future.

I hate those “F” words!

I pull my phone out of my pocket.

“What are you going to do?” Caroline asks.

“I’m going to write whoever the liar is and tell him where he can stick his emails,” I snap.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: surprise

Guess who I just ran into in town?

Any clue?

How about I just tell you!

YOU!

Or at least the you I thought I’d been exchanging letters with for the last two years.