Page 132 of Resorting to Romance

Kai

To write a good love letter, you ought to begin

without knowing what you mean to say,

and to finish without knowing

what you have written.

~ Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Dear Mila,

I want to say

I crumple the paper and throw it in the small trash can full and overflowing with similar unfinished letters. This is such a bad idea. I should just go over there. She’s my friend. I can walk up to the door of the inn, knock, and spill everything in my heart.

I lean my head into my hands, rubbing the heels into my eye sockets and sighing loudly.

I want her to have a letter. Call me sentimental, but I want her to be able to hold my words, read them over and over, to save this letter to come back to later, anytime she wants to remember how thoroughly loved she is. And, face it. I want toget this right.

But I don’t want to be sitting here wasting time.

Phyllis never did tell me why I needed to act swiftly. And it’s already past Noah’s bedtime. It’s going to be past Mila’s if I can’t get it together, write my thoughts and feelings on paper and make my way to her soon.

It’s official: Love makes a man crazy.

I take a deep breath, exhale, crack my knuckles and start again.

Dear Mila,

This letter is my way of starting from scratch—as if we never faked, as if we were two friends who had grown close, and one day I looked up and saw you—really saw you.

I wouldn’t change how we started. I can’t remember the exact day I met you. What I do remember is the day you invited me to see the inn. “Mila’s Place,” you said, “Named after me.” And then you blushed just the slightest. And maybe I fell just a little that day. I think I must have. And I’ve been falling for you ever since. One blush, one smile, one thoughtful act, one burst of laughter, one quiet evening on the porch at a time.

Your friendship has been a lifeline, a sanctuary, and a lighthouse when everything in my life felt choppy. You listened to me when I was spinning out about Kala and Bodhi. And you talked reason to me until you made me see my part in the situation. You always do that. You balance me, softening my hard edges with your kindness and patience.

I wouldn’t change how we met or how our friendshipdeveloped. But I wish I would have asked you out earlier. I would have taken my time. I’d give you all the space you need to warm up to the idea of something romantic between us, and then I’d give even more time to help Noah warm up too. I believe he would—he will—if we decide to take a chance on us.

If I could reverse time, I would not have faked anything with you. Because what I feel for you is real. You wanted something real, Mila. That’s all I have to give you. The real me loving the real you. And I know it’s enough. What we have is the most real thing I’ve ever experienced.

If you’ll let me, I will spend every day of our lives showing you, reminding you, that real love is possible. Because it’s you and me. And this is real.

And while I hope to say these words to you in person, I need to say them now.

I love you, Mila.

I want to start our relationship the right way, if you give me the chance.

For real this time. - Kai

I reread the letter twice. It’s not everything I have to say to her, but it’s the heart of it.

I fold it over in thirds and then fold that in half, carefully placing it into my shirt pocket. And then I climb onto my bike and ride to Mila’s Place, because my patience isn’t long enough for a golf cart tonight. I pedal faster than a delivery guy in New York City, up hills and down, around curves, past coves and intothe neighborhood of the North Shore. The waning moon is nearly full overhead and the light ripples across the waves. The stars smatter the sky like a crowd holding up individual lights at a show, cheering me on.

Tonight, she’ll know everything.

And then I’ll know everything: what we are, or what we never will be.

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