Page 56 of Sweet Somethings

"I remember that place. It's still around?"

"And better than ever. Plus, they deliver."

"Perfect." He pulled out his phone and looked up the number. "What do you like?"

"I'm a meat pizza kind of girl, so sausage, pepperoni, ham, and whatever veggies you want to throw on top."

"Sounds good to me," he said, punching in the number to place the order. When that was done, he looked back at her. "I'm ready for the next letter."

"You want me to keep reading them aloud? You're not finding them too sweet and sappy?"

"Oh, they're definitely sappy, but I'm still interested in the content."

She picked up the next note. "I think they're in order, at least they have been so far, although there aren't any dates." She unfolded the paper and began to read aloud.

To My Love,

Last night was the most wonderful night of my life. You touched me with such tenderness. You kissed me with such passion and ferocity. I felt desired and loved. I never imagined it could be like this. And then you held me through the night. I told you I slept well, but I didn't sleep at all. I stayed awake, listening to the sound of your heartbeat, the swoosh of your breath. I didn't want to close my eyes. I didn't want to miss a second.

I wish you hadn't left so early. I felt like I needed more time with you. I have this fear that things are moving too fast and yet not fast enough. I don't want to lose you. I'm sure you would say that you're not going anywhere, but I can't seem to believe that. I can't keep the worry out of my heart. If it were just about us, then maybe I could be more confident…but it's not just about us.

I just hope you know how much I love you. I should have said the words last night. But sometimes the words don't come when we're together. I'm afraid I'll say too much or not enough. Maybe you feel the same.

Now the words are flowing, along with the questions and the doubts. Am I foolish to believe that something so wonderful could last forever? Because then I must be the most foolish person on earth.

"That's it," Juliette said, setting the note down. "Sounds like they slept together."

He nodded. "And she's not sure of his feelings."

"I wonder what she meant when she said: if it were just about us, but it's not."

"Maybe one of them was married."

"I was thinking that, too. At first, it seemed like the letters were written by a teenager, but maybe not, perhaps just a very young woman."

"Did you ever write letters like this?"

"No," she said, with a shake of her head. "I had a diary when I was very young. I used to write under my window upstairs. I had the room with the sloping ceilings, and the sun would come through the window and light up that corner. I had big pillows to flop on, and I'd sit there and read or write in my journal."

"About boys?" he asked with a teasing smile. "Your future Romeo?"

"There were a few boys mentioned in my journal. I had a big crush on Kyle Daniels. He was blond and blue-eyed and oh, so cute. But he only had eyes for Tracy Stone. She was also blonde and blue-eyed and oh, so cute." She paused. "I wonder what happened to them. They were dating when I left school."

"Did you keep in touch with anyone after you left?"

"My friend Cassie. She lives in Chicago now, but we've seen each other a few times over the years. Whenever she came to New York, we'd get together. I'm hoping she'll come to Fairhope sometime to visit her parents. She skipped Christmas here to go to her boyfriend's parents' house. But maybe Easter."

"So this is it for you? Fairhope is your permanent home?"

"I'd like it to be. I feel like it's the right fit for me."

He nodded, agreement in his eyes. "I do, too."

She looked around the kitchen. "It's kind of weird to be sitting here with you. Even stranger that I took this particular seat, because we had a table in exactly this location, and this was my seat."

"Old habits," he murmured with a shrug.

"I used to do my homework here while my mom cooked dinner." She thought for a moment. "So many of my memories involve food. I was either in here with my mom making dinner or in the bakery helping my dad. I guess it's not that unusual. Meal times are usually family times."

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