Page 80 of Nineteen Letters
“It still doesn’t explain why you’re a bad driver. If you’ve never driven, how would you know?”
“Your dad thought it would be a good idea for me to have my licence when we found out I was expecting you. I had a few lessons, but I was dreadful. Nobody wanted to get in the car with me. Even the instructor your father hired to teach me quit after the first lesson.”
“Oh my god,” I say, giggling. “You must’ve been bad.”
“Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I’m afraid: you weren’t much better when you first got behind the wheel.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. You’re lucky your father has the patience of a saint, otherwise, you may never have got your licence either.”
As I head out the front door my smile fades as a thought occurs: was my poor driving the reason I had my accident? Nobody has ever told me what happened that day.
The sun is rising by the time I arrive at the beach. I pause as soon as my feet hit the sand, inhaling the fresh salty air.
I set off down the beach at a slow pace—even though I have done this a thousand times before, it’s a new sensation and it takes a bit of getting used to. A few minutes in, I can already feel the muscles in my legs burning. My heart is racing and my breathing laboured, but I feel wonderful. My eyes are focused on Braxton’s house as I draw nearer, and I feel the sting of disappointment when I don’t see him sitting on the back deck.
It takes me about twenty minutes to reach the end of the beach. I contemplate stopping to catch my breath, but I’m on a high. I completely understand now why I always loved to run, and I’m grateful to Braxton for reminding me.
I steal a glance towards his place again as I make my way back down the beach. There’s still no sign of him. I try not to dwell on it, but as I get closer my heart skips a beat when I see the glass sliding door open. Bella-Rose appears on the deck first, closely followed by Braxton. Butterflies erupt in my stomach the moment my eyes land on him. I can’t explain all these feelings I get when I’m around him, but I like them. I like them a lot.
As if lured by a magnetic force, his attention is immediately drawn in my direction. Without thinking, I raise my hand andwave, and he reciprocates. It’s hard to tell from this far away, but I think he’s smiling. I know I am.
The moment Bella-Rose spots me, she comes bounding down the stairs and sprints across the sand towards me.
I stop running and crouch down. “Hey, girl,” I say, trying to catch my breath as she licks the side of my face.
I’m busy giggling and patting her when a shadow falls over me. Looking up, I see Braxton’s handsome face smiling down at me.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” I reply, and my voice sounds a little strange to me. Standing, I wipe my palms nervously down the side of my tights. Although I was hoping to see him this morning, I suddenly feel self-conscious about my appearance. I’m sweating and must look like a hot mess. I brush away the damp hair that has been glued to my forehead, tucking the loose strands behind my ears.
“It’s good to see you running again.”
I smile, my nerves fading. “Your letter inspired me.”
“I’m glad. You used to run on this beach every morning. You’d say it was the perfect way to start the day.”
“Did you ever come with me?”
“Never. I couldn’t keep up with you,” he chuckles.
Is it crazy that I miss my old life, a life I don’t even remember? Things just seem to have been much simpler back then.
“Do you have time for a coffee?” His question has me beaming. I was hoping he’d invite me up. “I was just about to make myself one.”
“I’d love one.”
“Shall we?” He gestures towards the house, then holds his elbow out towards me. I slide my arm through his, trying not to blush at the look he gives me when I do.
We walk in silence, with Bella-Rose following closely behind. I’m immensely aware of my skin against his, but again I’m mortified that I’m so gross and sweaty. God, I hope I don’t smell.
This time he doesn’t invite me inside, and I’m glad. I hope one day I’ll be ready, but for now, I’m happy to just sit on the back deck and enjoy the view, and of course the company.
I sit on the bench seat, and my eyes flit around the space. I love it out here.
I eye him as he settles back into the seat and takes a sip of his coffee; he has beautiful full lips. He’s drinking out of that old cup again, and today I can see the writing on it.‘You’recute, can I keep you?’I know there’s a story behind that, and I hope he will share it with me one day.
