Page 108 of By the Letter

“Okay, he isn’t dim, but maybe you are.”

I scrunched my nose at her. “That isn’t nice. I’m sad. You’re supposed to be comforting me.”

“Why would I comfort you when you’re screwing everything up?”

“Bea, come on,” I whispered, exhausted from the war brewing within me.

“What else did he say? Just spill it.”

Shaking my head, I got up from the couch and started for the kitchen. “He said a lot of really lovely things I can’t let myself believe.”

I started transferring the muffins from the tin I’d baked them in to a plate. I had no idea why I’d baked these since this recipe didn’t taste good to me. Roman and his brothers loved it, but I doubted he’d accept anything from me now.

Bea stopped on the other side of the island. “Like what?”

“Like he’s fallen in love with me. He hasn’t, though. He loves the baby, and once he’s here, he’ll see that. He didn’t like when I told him that, but I can’t, Bea—if I let that in, I’ll fall apart when he takes it away.”

“Shira, god…” Bea shook her head. “What is wrong with you?”

My chin quivered as I looked at my friend across from me. Bea was something of a black cat, swatting at people who annoyed her, but she’d never been anything but sweet and gentle with me—except now.

Now, she seemed like she was pissed off.

“What?” I asked.

“You can’t just tell someone they don’t know their own feelings. It would be one thing if you didn’t feel the same for him, but I’ve seen the two of you together. I know when two people are stupidly in love, and that’s you and Roman.”

“We’re friends,” I insisted, though my defense didn’t ring true—even to me.

“I’m not going to ask why you think you’re not worthy of a big, passionate love. You settled for a sexless marriage to a man you might have loved, but there’s no denying he definitely took advantage of your age and position. But you’re older, a shit ton richer, and you don’t have to settle anymore. Why in the world are you not letting Roman love you?”

I can’t think of how to love you harder other than cutting my heart out and showing you your name carved in every chamber. But what if that’s not enough?

“He’s beautiful,” I replied weakly.

“And so are you. Not every kind of beauty has to scream.” She stole a muffin from the plate and peeled the wrapper. “Your kind of beauty is a whisper. The closer you pay attention to it, the more you understand and become attuned to it. And once you are, you can’t believe you didn’t notice it in the first place.”

My eyes burned so badly, I had to squeeze them shut for relief. “That is the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“I’m certain Roman’s said sweeter things.”

“It’s strange waking up and not heading to your house. I think I’ve gotten used to you, Shira.”

“You give me this body, I will fucking worship it.”

“Have you seen how beautifully you’re growing our son? You can handle anything.”

“You can be a mess with us.”

“…you have become everything to me.”

A different kind of wave crashed into me, knocking down my flimsy barriers and flooding me with Roman’s words, smiles, gentle caresses, and all the soft looks he’d given me. There was friendship behind all of it—and so much more. It had been that way for months and months, and I’d refused to see it. My brain had decided enough was enough and gave it all to me at once.

“He has,” I agreed, leaning over the counter to catch my breath. “He’s said so many lovely things to me.”

“You’ve deserved every one of them. It’s your time, Shira. If you don’t really live, what was the point of everything you did to survive?”

I almost staggered from the weight of her question. Whatwasthe point of what my mom had endured and what I’d been through to get here if I didn’t make the most of what I now had?

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