Page 69 of Keeping London (Flawed Heart)

You know what else? Who thought of this question game? We’re on 49, and I’m drawing a blank. Do you know how hard it is to come up with so many questions for someone you already know pretty well in the first place? It’s difficult. I have no idea how I’m going to come up with new material when we’re in the hundreds. There are going to be some pretty random questions at that point.

So, in honor of the randomness to come, here’s question 49: What kind of sheets do you like? You know, there’s flannel, silk, T-shirt, cotton, and so on. I ask because I’m sitting here in bed with my laptop on my lap, exhausted and ready to climb into my soft satin sheets to go to sleep. I love my sheets. Satin is my answer because, to me, they are perfect.

I love you, Loïc. Stay safe.

Love,

London

God, I adore her.

I love Skyping with her for so many reasons. Obviously, I get to see her face, hear her voice, and have a live back-and-forth conversation. But I truly love her emails. They are just so…her. They’re funny, sweet, random, whiny, and incredibly adorable all at once…just like she is. I can almost hear her saying the words as she’s typing, and though it’s not the same as a live chat, I definitely feel closer to her after I’ve finished reading one.

She’s brilliant, plain and simple.And she’s mine.That thought will never get old.

I start to type my response.

To: London Wright

From: Loïc Berkeley

Subject: Question 50

London,

Sheets are sheets. And, for what it’s worth, to me, you are perfect. But, I suppose, if I’m going to answer your question, I have to say satin as well because my vote will always be whatever type of sheet is covering you Who’s pathetic now? ;-)

It’ll probably be after midnight, my time, when you get this email, so…HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY! January 22 will forever be one of my favorite days because it was the day your beautiful, spunky, spoiled, sexy ass came into the world.

You’re right. It sucks that we have to miss all of our first holidays together. I wish I were back in Michigan or in the locale of your choice to celebrate with you. I’m sure the piano bar with Paige and the girls will be fun. You’ve had a blast at your other twenty-two birthdays, I’m positive, so don’t let my absence stop you from having fun at this one.

It’s late, and I have to get up early, so I’m going to go. I’m free tomorrow between 1–2 p.m., your time. So, try to be on around one, and we’ll Skype. I’d love to at least see your gorgeous face on your birthday.

Question 50: In your history of birthdays, which one was your favorite?

I think mine would have to be my seventh birthday. I’ve told you about it before, I believe. First, it was the last birthday that I celebrated with my parents. I got this awesome red mountain bike that I wanted so much at the time. My mom was happy. When I think about that day, feelings of joy come back to me. I actually dreamed about it the other day, which was weird. I don’t know why. Maybe it was because of all our talk about your birthday and mine coming up next month. Plus, the memory of that day is pretty clear, whereas my earlier birthdays are fuzzier, getting more unclear the younger I was. So, anyway, that’s mine.

Remember, 1 p.m., your time.

I love you, London.

Happy birthday, baby.

Love,

Loïc

Loïc

“Perhaps I fell in love with her not because of one moment, but because every moment led me to her.”

—Loïc Berkeley

It’s killing me that I don’t have time to check my laptop before we head out, but I don’t. I’ve grown what I might classify as an unhealthy dependence on that device. It’s as close as I’ve ever been to an addiction in my life. I live for communication from London. I crave it. Truthfully, that brilliant little machine is getting me through this deployment. Let’s face it; I’m already an addict, and London’s my drug of choice.

I don’t know when it all happened.When did lust become interest? Interest become adoration? Adoration become love? Love become all-consuming need?It’s so strange. I feel like, one minute, I was trying to avoid this insistent girl named London, and the next, I was head over heels in love with her. I can’t pinpoint the instant that it all happened. Maybe it wasn’t even a specific minute in time? Perhaps I fell in love with her not because of one moment, but because every moment led me to her. Each second that I’ve spent with London has contributed to the overwhelming way in which I love her now.

Me, Loïc Berkeley, in love.Obviously, I’ve known for months that I’ve felt this way about London. Yet I don’t think I realized the gravity—the all-encompassing nature of it all—until I got here, and I couldn’t see her, touch her, and feel her every day. Her absence solidified everything for me. It’s only London. It will only ever be London.

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