Page 22 of Dear Ripley

I wondered who the one damaging him was. It was written all over him and I remembered it all too well. All that time wanting Alicia and being too scared to go for it. He was going through something similar, I was certain.

“Yeah,” I agreed softly. “You’re not wrong there.”

He sighed heavily, his eyes unfocused and somewhere far away, before he shook the mood off. “But…”

He drew the word out in a way that told me I didn’t want the but. He was too excited by it and it was only bad news for me, whatever it was.

“Butwhat?” I asked, on guard.

He smirked. “But… if you’re really not still in love with Alicia, does that mean you’d be more or less inclined to care if she left a message for you?”

The floor beneath me twisted, dipping and dropping in ways that made no sense, and made me feel unsteady.

If this was a joke, I might actually murder him.

But it had to be, right? Why on earth would Alicia have left me any kind of message? I wasn’t the only florist in town. If she was in such desperate need of blooms, she could try somewhere else. It would be a weird power trip to insist on having me do her florals.

And she’d made it perfectly clear when she’d turned on her heel and fled the store last Thursday that she had no interest in talking to me. She’d stared at me in fear, said nothing, and left me standing there, cold, rejected, and abandoned. Again.

So what on earth could she possibly have to say? And why would the message be coming through Ekundayo? They didn’t know each other. He’d been a kid in another country the last time Alicia had been in Jackson Point.

After a few minutes, when my eyes were beginning to ache from staring without blinking, Ekundayo waved a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Ripley.”

I blinked furiously, shaking my head. “Sorry. What?”

“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice worried me. He shouldn’t be worrying about me.

And I wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending I wasn’t hung up on Alicia. Shoot.

“I’m good, yeah.” I nodded firmly, willing it to be true.

He smiled. “So, do you want the message?”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows, watching me carefully. His dark brown eyes were filled with a million accusations I didn’t want leveraged, and a million questions I didn’t want to answer.

I sighed. “Fine. I do. What is it and where did it come from?”

He shrugged, heading back behind the counter. “No idea what it says, but Joel dropped this off with me, and asked me to pass it along.”

He returned with a soft, cream envelope.

How was it that even when she was away from home, Alicia had such quality stationery? Had she brought it with her expecting something like this? Or had she bought it in the aftermath of the most terrible Thursday ever?

Ekundayo smiled softly, leaving me alone with the envelope.

I stared down at it. Her script on the front was the same as ever. Eight years since I’d seen her write my name and it felt like no time had passed at all.

Was I supposed to open it? Would I do so only to find a restraining order inside? Were those usually dropped off in envelopes with such a high gsm? Probably not.

What else could she be sending me?

I ran my fingers over the seal on the back. I didn’t want to know. I tried to convince myself that was true. But it wasn’t. I desperately wanted to know. Ineededto know.

Eight years and no communication. I had to know what she needed to say to me now.

I slid my finger under the flap, tearing open the envelope.

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