Page 118 of Keep Me

Maybe deep down that’s what I wanted.

But then I fell in love with you and everything I wantedchanged. I wanted you to stay. I wanted to be happy for you. I wanted a normal life.

But we were never a normal couple. Or a real couple.

The love was real though, wasn’t it?

I’m sorry this letter is such a bloody mess. Clearly, you’re the writer.

What I really want to say is that I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to be real. But that day you left, I knew you were different than the woman who showed up in my house the year before. You changed, Sylvie. I think somewhere in our marriage, you forgave yourself for not being perfect and loved yourself anyway.

Maybe you just needed to watch someone fall in love with you to see it.

I’m glad it was me.

Thank you for the best year of my life. I hope when you get married for real, your real husband won’t be afraid to fight with you because you are never more beautiful than when you stick up for yourself. Don’t lose that.

Your brute,

Killian

Killian’s letter is folded up in my purse. I received it a couple of months ago, and since then, I’ve heard nothing. I’ve gotten comfortable with the silence, like learning to live with a nagging pain that won’t go away.

He told me not to wait, and I’m not. I even downloaded a dating app recently, although I didn’t swipe right on anyone, or even upload my photo. But I figure it’s a baby step.

I’m doing exactly what he asked of me. And yet, I still miss him so much it hurts.

I’m not holding on to hope that Killian and I will ever get back together. I’m not.

But I’m also not ready to walk away from that year of my life like it didn’t mean anything. Enid says I’m just dating myself now, and I think she’s right. I am my own rebound.

So when my phone rings in the coffee shop as I’m typing on my laptop, and I see his name on the screen, I freeze.

It’s been so long since I heard his voice. At the prospect of hearing it again, I nearly fumble my cell phone out of my grip as I struggle to hit the Answer button.

“Hello?” I stammer.

“Sylvie,” he responds. There’s a hint of panic in his tone. I jump from my seat and rush out the front door so I don’t have to carry out this conversation in a quiet room with strangers.

“What’s wrong?” I ask as fear courses its way down my spine.

“I just need you to talk to me,” he says through the phone line.

“I’m here,” I answer without hesitation. “Where are you? What’s going on?”

“I’m going for a drive.”

To anyone else, those words would be simple enough, but for Killian, they have me pausing in my tracks. “Where are you driving?”

“Just into town. Not far. My therapist suggested I do this.”

“And you’re alone?” I ask.

“Aye.”

It dawns on me in this moment that he’s doing something difficult, and he needs me. He’s asking me for help, and the feeling sends a bolt of excitement through my body.

I know he needs me to stay calm, so I let out a relaxed sigh. “What would you like to talk about?” I ask casually.

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