Page 15 of Love Letter Lost
“You’re welcome, but just so you know, eating does not get you out of explaining yourself,” Audrey called from the couch.
I finished warming my food, grabbed utensils, and settled back onto the couch. “Fine. I honestly don’t know where to start.”
“How about the reason why you were still awake when I got home at 1:00 a.m.?” Chloe leaned forward, pushing blankets aside to rest her elbows on her knees.
I took a bite of pot roast and then dug into the story, starting with my time helping at Livvy’s, explaining my discovery of the letter, glossing over prom with minimal details, and ending with the awkward front yard conversation with Ridge, Amber, and Livvy. I interspersed the telling with bites of food and swallows of soda, not caring if it delayed the telling.
“Oh, and I volunteered to help Livvy save her wedding because it’s either that or go on a spree of blind dates planned by my mother in a last-ditch effort to get me a date for the wedding.”
“Wow. That’s a lot.” Audrey blinked at me, looking as exhausted as I felt.
“Can we see the letter?” Chloe asked.
I went into my room and grabbed the letter from its hiding place in my notebook. They didn’t need to know that I had taken my crazy a level further by writing letters to the man who had blown me off ten years before. That secret was better kept to myself.
I let them read the letter, using the quiet to finish my food and place the dishes in the sink before settling back onto the couch. I fiddled with the cap on my Dr. Pepper as I waited for them to say something.
As she finished reading, Chloe broke out in a squeal. “This is so cute.” She bounced on the couch, waving the letter in the air. “He obviously feels bad about that night and wants to make it right. I wish a guy would write me a letter. Letters are so much more romantic than texts.”
Audrey, the voice of reason, brought her back to earth. “But it’s years old. Who’s to say he still feels this way? Also, he has a girlfriend.”
Chloe waved this aside. “This is totally chick-flick worthy. I mean, just picture it, estranged love-interests from high school driven apart by social expectations brought back together by a letter from their past.” Chloe sighed and ran her fingers through her hair, causing it to stick up in spikes.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
Audrey grew quiet as she listened to Chloe gush, her whole face scrunching in a look of concern. “Yeah, that’s a cute movie idea, but these are real people with real feelings. Do you honestly want Mallory to try breaking up a relationship after everything we both went through this last year?”
Chloe looked chagrined. “I didn’t even think about that, Audrey. I’m sorry!”
Audrey reached over and squeezed Chloe’s hand. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it, but this isn’t a romcom. Besides, even if Ridge wasn’t dating someone, how would this change things? He wrote that letter years ago. How could it possibly mean anything for you now?”
“I don’t know.” I couldn’t sit still any longer and moved into the kitchen, using the sink full of dinner dishes to keep my hands busy. Audrey and Chloe followed. “A part of me wants to explain things to him, apologize and try to rebuild our friendship. But the other part thinks that’s a terrible idea. He hurt me. Why would I reopen that door? Especially when he clearly wasn’t even interested in being civil yesterday.”
“It’s not a terrible idea.” Chloe leaned against the counter next to me, her grin so wide, I wondered if her cheeks hurt. “I mean, he probably feels similarly. He might even be harboring feelings for you, and he’s been unable to move on, wondering about the love from his youth who got away.” Chloe read too many romance novels.
I pictured Ridge’s expression when I saw him this morning. “Not likely. I think he’d much rather pretend like I never existed and move on with his life.” A perfect life where he got to ride in blue sportscars with blonde, gorgeous Amber by his side.
I stared into my scratched, metal sink, adding it to my mental list of someday updates as I scrubbed a plate covered in gravy. An under-mount farmhouse sink would be perfect.
I continued working, the scar on my arm catching my eye. I rubbed my knuckles over the raised edges for a moment, lost in the past, before finally shutting off the water and turning to face my roommates. “All of this would be so much easier if I had never found that letter. Then he and I could go on hating each other and forgetting about the past.”
“Is that what you really want?” Audrey asked in a quiet voice from where she leaned against the counter. “Because you can keep pretending. He doesn’t have to know that anything has changed.”
“And you know we’ll support your decision, no matter how good of a movie this would make.” Chloe added, settling onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the tension I could feel building. “I don’t want to hate Ridge, but I don’t know how to live in a world where I don’t hate him.”
The admission burned my throat, making me cringe at how calloused the words sounded.
“Oh, Mal,” Audrey said, pulling me into a hug that Chloe quickly joined. “You don’t have to know how. You just have to know that you want to make the change. Let time take care of the rest.”
* * *
After lunchI slipped into my bedroom, needing a quiet moment to process everything from the day. The revelation of earlier, that I didn’t want to hate Ridge anymore, had shaken me more than I would ever admit to my roommates. I had spent so much time being angry about prom and how much he’d hurt me that I hadn’t realized how closely I’d held the hurt. Maybe that was why, after all this time, his words had the ability to rock my world.
I sank onto my bed and reached for the notebook, fingering the edges before flipping to a new page.
Dear Ridge,
