Page 92 of When Hearts Awaken

Congratulations on yet another successful performance. I wish I was there to watch you dance.

Stay warm in Edinburgh.

Yours,

Charles

P.S. Reason number twenty-one: Your fascination with carrots. Now every time I eat something with them in it, I automatically think of you. But then, I don’t need help with that. I think of you far too often.

My heart skips a few beats as I imagine him munching on a carrot at a restaurant inside The Orchid, his thoughts on me.

Charles left early morning after our night together in Prague. He gently roused me on the bed, the softest caress and the gentlest kiss, and said, “Minx, I need to go back to New York to take care of some things at the bank. I was supposed to go back last night…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but I knew he stayed for me.

My brain is foggy from the events of the prior evening, after which he and I took separate showers before he wrapped me in his arms as sleep overtook me.

I was cocooned in safety. No more nightmares or shadowy whispers.

And so, that morning, I lazily blinked open my eyes and smiled at him and I saw him catch a breath, his beautiful blue eyes darkening, his jaw clenching before releasing.

“Thank you, Charles…for everything.”For being here, for letting me feel pleasure again. For being patient with me.“Safe travels.”

We stared at each other, not saying anything more, because honestly, I’d no idea where we stood. My emotions were a mess, my mind still trying to process everything in the light of day. He was right. I needed to think things through before we took things further.

But I know my body is ready now. I just need to open up my heart.

He swallowed, not pushing me. “If my schedule permits, I’ll try to be at the last performance in St. Petersburg. But if not, I’ll see you back in New York.”

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss on my cheek and whispered, “You’re not alone, Taylor. Not anymore.”

His words echo in my mind as I stare at his note, one from each day I’d receive from him. The first bouquet arrived the day after, tucked with a note of something he thought about during his day. He’d always end the note with a postscript…a reason why he thinks I’m wonderful.

Reason number one: The fire in your eyes when you dance—I feel like I’m chasing your dreams or vanquishing your demons right alongside you.

Reason number two: Your wit and dry sarcasm. Do you know they say sarcasm is the highest form of intelligence?

Reason number three: Bravery. Whenever I think of that word, I think of you. The way you face the world, no fucks given, the way you don’t let your past keep you down, the way you are clear in what you feel…love, hate, everything written on your face.

The notes go on and on, arriving early morning with a bouquet of burgundy roses, the thorns intact.

Roses are more beautiful with thorns.

The walls around my heart crumble. He’s wooing me with actions.

As always, I take out my phone and send him a text message to thank him for the flowers, and include a photo of what I’m seeing in front of me.

Taylor

Thanks. The performance went well. It’s a gloomy day in Edinburgh. I’m at the Dean Village. But my day is made brighter by your flowers.

After taking a quick selfie, I attach it to the text message and press send.

A few minutes later, he replies.

Charles

Go to Stockbridge after your walk. There are some great cafés and bakeries there. They might even have carrot cake.

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