Page 176 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
It’s your turn to read my book.
Of course, it’s not nearly as long as yours — you’ve always had a way with words that I never did. I also didn’t have a whole publishing house at my disposal, so I hope you don’t mind the streaky ink from my work printer, or the mess of staples holding this thing together. But I got to read your side of our love story.
Now, I want you to read mine.
There’s a bottle of bubble bath by the tub, or a bath bomb if you prefer, and your favorite tea is ready to brew. Lunch will be delivered right to the door, and I’ll be back around three.
Go soak, read, and relax.
And tonight, it’s just you, me, the piano guys, and a blanket on the beach.
Don’t worry — the kids will be with Sylvia and Drew.
And we don’t get them back until the morning… if you catch my drift.
I’m going to spoil you even more than usual today, my little surfer girl, and worship every inch of that body of yours. But first, I want you to read my side of our crazy, stupid, perfect story.
I want you to understand how madly in love with you I am, and have been — since the first moment I laid eyes on you.
You were wrong, by the way.
It was you I saw first.
Love,
Whiskey
Letter written for True Story Book Blog in 2017:
Just B,
This is our first Valentine’s Day together. Like, actually together. But it’s not our first Valentine’s Day.
Our first one was when I was 18 and you were 17. I gave your best friend a box of chocolates and a huge stuffed bear, but I gave you my heart, and just like I suspected, you never gave it back.
Then there was the time you were Ethan’s Valentine. He bought you a tennis bracelet, one I saw you wear only twice, but what I remember most was when you took it off that next morning to go surfing with me.
Let’s not forget the three years we both spent alone, because even when you didn’t answer, my heart only called to you.
When I was Angel’s, when you were Bradley’s, when we were young and stupid and fought so hard not to give in. When it was nothing we needed and everything we wanted. When it was right, and when it was wrong. All those years, every February 14th, you were my Valentine.
You wrote me the best love letter that’s ever existed, but I have a lifetime to pay you back, letter by letter, note by note.
This is number one.
Love,
Whiskey
• • •
Letter to readers, originally made for Bookified Designs:
August 9th, 2019
Newport Beach, California
Hey Whiskey Girl,
It’s been so long since we last corresponded — almost three years, to be exact. I hope all is well on your side of the world, and that you’ve been reading a mountain of five-star romances since we last met.
I’m sending you a wet hug from the sunny shores of Newport, California. B is out in the water, floating on top of her surfboard and waiting for the next wave to roll in. I always love to see her like this — hair wild and curly, freckles dotting her cheeks, lips a little chapped from the sun. If you can believe it, she’s gotten even more beautiful with age — and somehow, more skillful in the waves, too.
So, just in case the ending of her book left you wondering... yes, that beautiful, stubborn, impossible woman is my wife.
As for me, I’m on the shore, soaking up the afternoon rays and watching Zoe build a sandcastle.
Oh, did we not tell you about Zoe?
She was born just two years after that book you read — the one that told the tortorous love story B and I made together. Zoe has her mother’s hair, and those adorable freckles, and she’s even got a hint of her smile — though, B would argue that Zoe’s smile favores mine. And that little girl also has my eyes — the honey whiskey ones, as B would say.
We moved out here to Newport when we decided we couldn’t be farther than a thirty-minute drive to the surf. And if I thought catching waves with the woman I loved was the best thing in the world, I never could have imagined what it would feel like to build a life with her.
It’s the most addicting thing.
I know we put you through hell. I know reading our storyw as hard, that it made you scream, and cry, and throw your Kindle... which is why I wanted to update you, to let you know that all that pain, all that burn... well, it was worth it.
We’re all doing just fine.
And we can’t wait to tell you more.
Until next time, stay golden — just like whiskey.
Jamie Shaw
