Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

“Not gonna happen.” Nathan moves behind me, but it’s obvious to all involved that it’s going to be difficult to push my chair with that shoebox under his arm.

“Give me the… box. It’s light.”

He hesitates. “You won’t try to do anything to them, will you?”

I sigh. “Nathan, even though those letters are mine and I can do whatever I want to them, I’m not going to magically set them on fire while they’re sitting in my lap.”

He makes no move to give them up.

I lift a hand to my chest. “Swear on my love for Charles that I won’t do anything to damage them.”

“Fine,” he huffs and sets the box in my lap.

Draping my arm over the box, I nod to Nathan.

The parking garage is empty of people as Nathan pushes me down the row.

And in the quiet, I think about how staying here is too much to ask.

We may have been close all those years ago, but as adults, the reality is that we just met a few weeks ago.

I feel the weight of the box in my lap.

And now that Nathan’s read the letters, it’s like we just met all over again.

The elevator doors open, and when Nathan pushes me inside, I look at his blurry reflection in the back wall.

He looked so fucking sad when I woke up and found him with the letters.

I never wanted to make Nathan sad. He’s only ever brought happiness into my life.

I let my eyes drift closed as the elevator takes us up.

And it’s nearing the middle of the night. Nathan is probably as tired as I am.

I’ll argue with him about going home tomorrow.

EIGHTY-SIX

NATE

Rosie’s asleep by the time I get the blankets pulled up over her.

Charles jumps onto the bed—having meowed and bumped against my legs the whole way across the condo—and moves to stand beside Rosie.

“I know, bud.” I pass a palm down his back, applying pressure when he arches into my hand. “She’ll be okay.”

I try to believe my words as I go through the motions of getting ready for bed.

Physically, she’ll recover.

But the things she’s been through…

I leave a trail of clothes across the closet and grab the first pair of sleep pants I can find.

From the way she worded things in those letters… I don’t think she’s told anyone.

I don’t think anyone knows how much she’s suffered.