Page 47 of Sincerely, Mr. Braden

Only it kind of was. I was worried about saving myself instead of being honest with Seth. I guzzle the rest of my wine, trying to choke down that thought. “Dad, can you at least tell me what she was like when you met her?”

He sets down his fork and puts his hand on Barney’s head, hesitating for a long time before finally speaking. “She lit up the damn room. Said yes to everything. Late nights, road trips, whatever came along. She never thought about or cared what came next.”

That makes me feel a little better, because that’s not me anymore. I would have said yes to almost anything before she left, but she stole that from me. Maybe that’s a good thing.

“Do you think she got bored?” I ask.

“What’re you trying to do, Taylor? Why are you digging up all this crap? All you need to know is that people don’t change,” my father says gruffly. “They just find new ways to hurt each other.”

“Sorry. I…Sorry.” Struggling against the emotions threatening to drown me, I clear my throat, trying to buck up and not cry.

Beneath the table, Becca puts her foot on mine, and I realize I asked the wrong questions. I should have asked what my father was like when he met my mother and if he changed after she left.

Much later, I crawl into bed with Barney, thinking about my life, my father’s gruffness, and Becca’s support. It was selfish of me to ask about my mother when my father was so worn out, but I’ve been feeling so lost lately, like a bird drifting, unsure where to land. I was hoping for something to ground me, but all I managed to do was make all the landing spots rougher.

We smoothed them out before I left. My father begrudgingly took his shot after dinner, and when he hugged me goodbye, we both apologized. To anyone else, the way he grumbled the apology would seem like it was done begrudgingly, too, but the accompanying embrace told me it came from his heart. Still, it bothers me that I feel so unsteady. I wish I knew how to fix everything.

I turn on my side and hug Barney.

My thoughts backtrack to my mother. I thought I was exactly like her when I was young. I wanted to be her. In my eyes she was vibrant, with big dreams that I thought we shared. I don’t want to be like her at all anymore, and something my father said has been eating away at me all night. People don’t change. They just find new ways to hurt each other.

I might be messy and complicated, but I refuse to be someone who puts herself above people I care about. I’ll never do that to my father again, and I might not be able to fix what happened with Seth, but at least I can stop lying to him and to myself. I know what I have to do, and my stomach twists at the thought.

“I have to do this, right, Barney?” I whisper, hugging him tighter.

He lifts his head.

“I can do the hardest thing, right? What’s that saying? Beautiful girl, you can do hard things?” Tears well in my eyes. “I’ve got this.”

I push off the bed, and Barney follows me downstairs to my office. I open my laptop, the glow cutting through the darkness as I navigate to my email program. I type Seth’s email address, skip the subject line, because I just can’t…and move the cursor to the body of the email. With a lump the size of Montana in my throat, I put my fingers on the keyboard and do what needs to be done.

Dear Seth,

Sorry doesn’t begin to scratch the surface of how much I regret not being honest with you from the start. I wish I could go back to that moment and say the right thing, but we both know wishes aren’t meant to come true. If they were, I’d wish on every star in the sky. What I can do is be one hundred percent honest with you now. I won’t pretend that I can go on working with you as if nothing happened between us when our time together is all I think about. Please accept this as my formal resignation. I’m sure you’re already trying to replace me. I’ll stay on as long as it takes to help find someone new and train them. That is, if you trust me enough to let me help.

I swipe at tears with trembling hands, feeling like I’m ripping my heart out again. Barney whimpers beside me and presses his nose into my thigh. If I pet him, I’m going to lose it, so I force myself to continue typing.

I want to explain why I go by Taylor Mitchell and why I protect my identity at all costs. When I first started working as a virtual assistant, I used my real name, Taylor Nunnally, and one of my clients turned out to be unstable. When I quit, he showed up at my house, called me obsessively, and even called my sister. It got ugly and terrifying very quickly. I had to take out a restraining order, and eventually I moved. After that, I needed to create boundaries that would keep me safe. That’s why I started using a male persona and registered my LLC in Delaware, using my father’s middle name as my last name. It was never about deceiving clients. It was about safety and peace of mind.

As I mentioned, when you showed up on the island, I panicked. I didn’t want to blow my cover. I was worried you might feel deceived and fire me on the spot. Even though I didn’t think you’d go off on me, after what I’d been through with the other client, I played it safe. I didn’t think you and I would spend time together, much less develop feelings as quickly as we did.

I know you think I played you, but the person I was with you is the real me. Eleanor Taylor Nunnally. Everything I told you was true, and my emotions were real. You know more about me than my sister, Becca, does. You’re the first person who made me feel safe enough to share the parts of me that I keep hidden. And honestly, I was shocked that I told you my name was Eleanor. I haven’t used that name since my mother left. She called me Nori. That’s why I became Taylor when I was thirteen. But with you, I wasn’t the little girl she left behind, or the VA who always has her shit together, or the annoying caretaking daughter.

I was just Ellie, a girl from Port Hudson, spending time with a great guy, and I really liked feeling safe enough to be myself with you. You think I was hiding, and I did too, at first, but now I know that for the first time in years, I wasn’t hiding. You helped me find the woman I think I was always meant to be. But you were right. I made a choice every time I let you call me Ellie.

Tears wet the keyboard, sliding between the keys, and I wipe my eyes.

That wasn’t fair, but in my defense, when we first got together, you said you hadn’t met a woman who could hold your attention better than a deadline. I never imagined I’d be that person. As we got closer, I wanted to tell you the truth a hundred times, but every time I tried, I got scared. I told myself whatever was happening between us would fade when we went our separate ways, and at least if I kept my identity under wraps, I could keep my job and be close to you that way.

It was selfish and cowardly. I wish I’d been smarter and stronger. But again, wishes…

More tears fall onto my fingers. I inhale a ragged breath and force myself to keep typing.

Somewhere along the way, it stopped being a mistake I could fix and became a secret that terrified me. I was in too deep. I kept telling myself I’d explain it when we left the island, when things were calmer and we had some distance between us.

I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to stop the tears, but they’re relentless.

I hate that I hurt you and that I broke your trust. I hate that the only way to make it right is to resign, and I hate that even now as I type this email, I want to believe it’s a nightmare that I’ll wake up from and find myself in your arms on the island.