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I smile back, shaking my head. “And I was already halfway out the door.” I close my eyes, debating whether I actually want to read the things I put in these letters out loud. I can barely remember the words, just the time. “It’s been years.”
“If going back is too painful, Scarlet—”
“Get comfy,” I tell him, resting my head down on the pillow.
I pull out the letter on top and open it.
“Lance,
I’m on bed rest and losing my mind.
They won’t let me work, Mason won’t let me breathe without shitting himself, and Nina might as well move in. I feel coddled and trapped, and I’m mad at you because if you were here, they’d all leave me alone.
To say things have taken a turn since the last time I wrote is an understatement. I have preeclampsia, a condition that can affect women during pregnancy. I remember learning about it briefly last year, and yet I didn’t pick up on the signs. It wasn’t until a visit to my midwife where I told her about the headaches I’ve been getting that they tested me. She asked to see my hands and feet, and I knew, remembered instantly. They’ve been swollen for weeks.
The baby is okay. My blood pressure is still high, but they’re monitoring us both. I’m trying my best to listen. It’s hard when there’s so much to do before the baby gets here, but everyone is here to help me.
I think I’m going to paint the baby’s bedroom cream. Doesn’t that sound awful?
I didn’t want to find out the baby’s sex. I know that Mum and Dad never knew with Mason and me, and she told me how special that was for them. She always went on about the day I have children, giving me all these tips and tricks, which seemed so typically her and her rambling. I never thought I’d need those words so soon.
I think part of the reason I didn’t want to find out the sex was because even if I did, you wouldn’t know. So, by not finding out, neither of us know. It feels like it’s all we have between us right now. A secret.
I started planning the memorial ball this week. Nina has no idea, and I plan to book as much as I can before telling any of them. I’m almost certain Mason will shut the whole thing down when he finds out, but I can’t lie here and not do anything. I have the resources to plan it from my bed, I even contacted the team you used last year who took everything away for us. I won’t lift a finger.
I’m lying.I’ll definitely make some sort of flower arrangements for the tables and grounds, but I swear that will be it.
Mum and Dad gave us so much. They deserve one night of the year dedicated to them.
I’ll hate not having you here with us for it. It’s still super weird coming home from work and not having you somewhere in the house. You belong here. I didn’t see it before, but I think this house became just as much a home to you than your mother’s ever was.
You were you here, and you were loved.
To me, that’s a real home.
I have absolutely nothing to do, but if I don’t stop writing, I won’t ever stop.
I miss you a little bit more every day.
Just keep me busy, okay. Stay running around and around in my mind while I get through this.
Never forget how much I love you. It’s an ungodly amount, and unfortunate at times, and infinite.
Infinite always,
Your sunshine.”
I frown as I stop reading, my eyes rolling over the words as if seeing them for the first time all over again.
“Scar.” Lance’s thumb connects with my cheek, drawing my attention up to him. We’re lay on the bed facing one another, the letter clutched in my hand. “You okay?”
“I forgot,” I whisper.
“You got sick?”
My chest burns, my eyes filling with tears as my words play over and over. “I didn’t listen. I went through with the ball that year.”
Lance watches me, his gaze vivid and locked on me.
