Page 140 of Never Kiss and Tell

Everything is spotless, from what I can see, but I know if I leave one, single sock, Dad will have my ass. I step through the house, almost creeped out. It’s like a tomb, or a house after someone passed. It reminds me of Mom’s house, empty after she was gone. It’s like Bailey just sucked the life out of the walls when she left.

I check the cabinets and the fridge in the kitchen, the spare bedroom upstairs, I move the couch and make sure nothing fell underneath. Bailey cleaned the place from top to bottom, not missing a single speck of dust.

I avoid her bedroom until the very end. Stepping inside, my eyes immediately fall on the bed where we’d crossed a new territory for the both of us. That moment feels light years away now.

I’m turning to leave when my eyes catch on an envelope on top of the dresser, addressed to me in big, sprawling cursive. I reach for it, debating on burning it straight away. Reading this will probably put me right back at square one. I’ve already looked into flights to LAX over twenty times and talked myself out of it. I’m liable to buy a fucking plane and go get her myself.

But curiosity gets the better of me and I sit on the edge of the bed, cutting the envelope open carefully with my pocket knife.

It’s a Dear John letter to me, dated the day before she left. Something heavy falls out of the envelope and a flash drive clatters to the floor.

Fuck, this is going to hurt.

Charlie,

I’m not really sure how to start this. I’m not good at goodbyes, obviously. I’m not good at a lot of things, especially, cooking, though you’ve taught me how to make a few things.

Something in particular, though, that I wish I could change, is my inability to express my feelings when it comes to you. I always thought you hated me and maybe you do, but I can’t stop replaying the last five weeks over in my head and smiling.

I agreed to the “deal” because I thought there was nothing about you, besides sex, I could like. You were an asshole, you slept around, you never put the toilet seat down. But you also turned out to be sweet, thoughtful, protective, and a gentleman (and good in bed).

You made me fall in love with you and I know that’s not what you want to hear, but I have to get it off my chest because I feel like I might explode if I don’t. I love you, Charlie Coulter, even with all the bad? — except leaving the toilet seat up. You need to work on that.

I know you think I’m just a Malibu brat with her stepdaddy’s money, and maybe I am, but I’ve never felt more like myself than when I was with you: sweaty, eating butter-soaked crawfish, and dancing to some country song neither of us knew.

I hope one day you can find someone that makes you feel like you’re perfect, because that’s what you did for me.

I love you,

Bailey

P.S. I left my book with you. It will never see the light of day, but I think you’ll find a lot of similarities between you and Heath.

I clutch the note tightly in my hand, rubbing a thumb overmy bottom lip. She fucking loves me. She’s not afraid to say it. This note has been here this whole time and I didn’t fucking know? I’m ready to climb on a plane that very second when I spot the flash drive abandoned on the floor.

I scoop it up, taking it and the note back to my house. I plug it into my laptop and open the single document stored in the files. It’s named Steamy-sexy-love-story-that-will-never-see-the-light-of-day.

I chuckle under my breath and start reading.

The knock on my door startles me, even though I knew it was coming. I open it, seeing Dad standing there, his expression guarded.

“Son. I’m here,” he says, stepping past me and into the house. “Just like you asked.”

I nod, shutting the door behind me. This isn’t something I have to do. Just something Ineedto do if I’m ever going to move forward.

“Well, take a seat. I think we need to talk.”

Dad sits on the sofa and I take the chair in front of him. I don’t think Dad and I have ever sat down like this and talked, man to man, save for one time. When I bought the bar portion of Lafayette’s.

“So, talk to me. What’s going on?”

I grit my teeth, rubbing my thumb over my lips as I try to think of what Iwant to say.

After a moment, Dad stops me.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix it.”

I meet his gaze and see the sincerity in his blue eyes. His are light, but not the grey that both Andi and I inherited from our mother.

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