I am still a work in progress.
But I wanted you to know that to me, you are perfect, too. Which surprises me, honestly. You are everything I didn’t know I wanted. But I fell in love with you because you are good and kind. A nearly unbearably handsome caretaker. Selfless and sweet. And by far the best sex I’ve ever had. I’ve used that little pink vibrator thinking about you so many times since you’ve been gone that I burned out the battery (okay, so, a little bit dirty).
I realized, maybe too late, that being independent doesn’t have to mean being alone.
I miss you.
So, I guess, I’m saying the word…
All my love,
Kira
P.S. I loved the socks.
She ate her soup, listening to her latest podcast, Horticulture and You, with Benny snoozing, his big head covering her feet, and she tried not to think about Bennett reading those words. She was putting her bowl in the sink when Benny started growling.
‘What is it, buddy?’ The dog was staring at the back windows. ‘Probably just a skunk or something,’ she assured him, peering out into the dark but Benny wouldn’t stop. His growls turned to barks.
‘Okay, you’re freaking me out.’
She followed the dog into the living room, grabbing her phone on the way, ready to call the cops, or Logan or someone, to come and scare away whatever was outside, scaring her big baby of a dog.
She looked out the front windows. The lights by the Christmas-tree cabin were on. So were the lights she had strung over the first few rows of trees. But it was the three dogs running through the farm that stopped her heart in her chest.
‘Holy shit, Benny.’
He whined next to her, nudging his head against her leg.
‘It’s okay. They’re … friends.’ She was already moving toward the door, fumbling with her boots, pulling on her coat. She couldn’t work the zipper; her hands were shaking too much.
He was here.
He’d come back.
For her.
She opened the door and walked onto the porch with trembling legs.
‘Bennett?’ Her voice was nearly a whisper. She felt crazy calling out his name. But his dogs were here, he had to be here somewhere.
Benny was still cowering next to her. ‘Come on, bud. It’s okay. Let’s go investigate.’
They walked down the driveway toward the tree farm entrance. Elizabeth barreled out of the trees, heading straight for them. Benny growled low in his throat. The dogs circled each other, sniffing and growling.
‘It’s all right, Benny. Don’t be scared.’ A few more circles and the dogs seemed to come to some sort of truce, growling turned into happy yipping and the two ran off together.
She kept walking and somewhere along the way Pudgy found her and waddled along beside her. It only took her a minute to realize the tree next to the cabin was decorated.
‘What is this?’ she asked the little dog at her feet, but Pudgy just wheezed in response. The tree was covered in envelopes, tied on with red bows. One toward the middle had writing on the outside.
Open first.
Kira plucked it off the tree, her breath stuck in her throat and tears burned behind her eyes.
She tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. Unlike the old ones she’d been reading lately, this one was crisp and white and written in Bennett’s precise handwriting.
Peaches,
I got your letter.
She barely got through the first sentence before the tears clouded her vision. She swiped them hastily away.
I’m not much of a letter writer myself, but you said it made you sad that our grandkids would never find our old letters. I thought this would be enough to get them started.
I’m really glad you said the word.
I missed you, too.
Love,
Ben
She looked up, expecting to see him but he still wasn’t showing himself so she grabbed another letter.
Peaches,
I think you are the most beautiful in the morning when your hair is a mess and you’re all soft and warm from sleep. I could look at you like that forever.
