AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Claire: We’re trying to, but you’re not making it easy.
Mia: You won’t give me anything? Not even a single tidbit of what happened down there?
Claire: His mom beat me at gin rummy.
Mia: Did she live to tell about it?
Claire: Only because that woman is a fucking delight.
Mia: Wow, what else?
Claire: Oh, his mom heard us having sex.
Mia: WHAT
Mia: NO
Mia: OMG
Claire: And that is why, no matter how badly you want something to happen between me and Graham, it never will because I can never show my face in that house again.
Claire: That’s all you’re getting. Gertie needs a walk.
Claire tossed her phone down and glanced at Gertrude, curled up at the foot of the bed.
“Let me change and brush my teeth and then we’ll take a nice long stroll around the block, okay? I need some fresh air while I think about what I’m gonna say to your dad.”
She put on a sports bra, a fresh top, and some yoga pants before padding to the bathroom to pee and brush her teeth. It wasn’t until she had the toothbrush in her mouth and glanced into the mirror that she saw the note.
Check your email, Ms. Sparkles.
She frowned, her brain briefly asking,Who the hell is Ms. Sparkles?before she made the connection. Why did he want her to check her old email account?
Coffee was the next priority, but Graham had gallantly left her half a pot warming on the hot plate. She idly wondered if he’d still do gestures like that after she cut things off. Was it possible for them to go back to the friendship they’d had before, or would it become stilted and awkward?
Good thing Reagan was due back today. They could use the buffer.
She poured a fresh cup and tossed a small bone to Gertrude to distract her while Claire sat down at the computer. It took her a few tries to get the password right, but when she finally got in her account, it was populated with several emails from two senders:[email protected]@zzmail.com.
Graham had emailed her? What the...?
She opened the oldest one first, and her confused frown quickly shifted to a smile as she read.
You went to work and I’m bored out of my fucking mind and Noah won’t be here for another hour, so I’m trying my hand at your journaling suggestion. It still feels weird to write to no one so I’m writing to you, instead.
She laughed into the quiet house, marveling that he’d actually listened to her for once. The first email was from several weeks ago, and she glanced at the most recent—this weekend. He’d been writing to her this whole time?
She pored over the words, shaking her head, snorting, and chuckling at his whining, sarcasm, and how veryGrahamthe emails were. It was clear that at first, he thought the entire exercise was ridiculous.
But as she continued reading, his tone began to change, and she slowed down to process each thought. Every line. Some of the written revelations had recently come out in conversation, though not in as much detail. It seemed her experience with journaling was true for him, too—sometimes it was easier to work through things on paper first. Pride filled her as she realized he’d really made an effort to process things he’d never let himself dwell on before.
Like things that inspired him:
I heard something once I try to live by:
“A ship is safe in the harbor,
but that’s not what ships are made for.”
