by Ali Parker
It smelled like a used bookstore and fresh photocopies.
With a sigh, I unfolded the paper and smoothed it out before holding it up in both hands to read the words he’d scrawled for me with a trembling heart.
Dearest Piper,
I know. The writer is sending you home with a letter. Shocker. But bear with me. There are things I’d like to say that I can write better than speak. So I send you home with this.
Thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me this month. You are leaving me a changed man for the better. Before you, I was nothing but the empty shell of a man looking for answers in all the wrong places, like his shitty apartment. Before you, there was nothing that got me out of bed in the morning. There was nothing worth trying for. Nothing worth showing up for.
You reminded me how beautiful life is when you’re out living it, not just writing about it. I don’t think I can ever repay you for what you showed me this month. Your presence has been an absolute blessing.
And that leads to my next point.
I know it was temporary. Your time with me. Us. All of it. Temporary.
I’m not the man for you. I think I knew that as soon as I saw you in the lobby in my building on the first of the month. I knew that you were a woman in love with another man. And that’s all right. Really, it is.
I just hope he’s a good man. There are good men in this group of yours, Piper. But there are also some who give me pause and who make me worry. So please, keep your wits about you. Trust your gut and your heart. It won’t lead you astray. And have faith that this will all work out as it should. You will be happy at the end of this. I believe that more than I believe anything else.
Because you are worthy of happiness. And you will have earned it.
Now, for my last point. The thing I was afraid to tell you in person. The thing that might make you angry with me.
I paid for your father’s surgery without telling you. I know. Dick move. But I had to do it. I saw the weight it put on your shoulders and on your family, and I could help. I had the means to help. And once I saw that need, I was compulsively drawn to fill it. So I paid for it. Phillip knows. I wrote him the check, and he helped me make it happen. Don’t hate him for this. He had nothing but good intentions. Like you, he just wants your father to be healthy.
I think that’s it. You’re an incredible person, Piper James. You’re going to make one man very lucky. Just make sure he knows how lucky he is, will you? I can’t bear to think of you with someone who doesn’t wake up every morning thanking his lucky stars that he gets to roll over and see you.
I love you. I’m sorry. This is a shit way to tell you. But I do. I have for weeks now. And I don’t need you to say it back. I know you love me too. But it’s not the same love. It’s a different love. A good love. A love I am more than happy to accept and carry with me. Always.
So, thank you again, my dream girl. You are everything.
Yours,
Aaron
My tears pattered off the page as I pored over the letter.
His words cut right to my heart. They warmed me up but made me hurt something terrible. All I wanted was to turn the car around and rush back into his arms and tell him, “Yes, I love you too.”
But it wasn’t that simple. This had never been that simple. Because even though I did love him, he was right. I loved others too. And I loved them with everything I had.
Did I love him the same amount? How could I tell? How could I measure how I felt about all these different men?
And why should I bother?
When the year came to an end, it wasn’t like I was going to be saying yes to one of their proposals and then spending the next year planning our wedding.
No.
I was taking the money and running, and I was going to pretend I’d never met any of these guys. Thinking of them was already hard enough. Once it was all said and done, I had no idea how I’d ever be able to face them. If I took the money, they’d figure out it had been my plan all along.
Surely. They were clever. They’d see right through me.
It was a wonder they hadn’t already.
I wiped at my eyes and folded the letter back up, careful not to put any more creases into the page. I was going to keep this letter forever, and I didn’t want to damage it like I’d damaged him.
After tucking the letter back into the envelope, I set it on the seat beside me and leaned forward to bury my face in my hands and cry my heart out.
I couldn’t believe he’d paid for my father’s surgery.
That wasn’t entirely true.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t put two and two together and figured it out before now. I should have known he wouldn’t give up that easily. I should have known Aaron would have done anything to make me happy and take care of me and, by extension, my father.
How could I ever repay him?
“I can’t,” I whispered to myself.
There was no way for a poor, broken, nobody like me to ever even the score for a grand gesture like what he’d done.
I needed Janie. She’d talk some sense into me. She’d help me feel better. And God, did I ever want to feel better.
The last week I’d spent with Aaron was glorious, quiet, and serene. But I still couldn’t help but feel like he and I had been cheated. Which made me wonder why I felt so compelled to spend more time with him.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was the one for me. Maybe he was the man I would choose at the end of all this.
If I could.
“Stop torturing yourself,” I muttered, sitting up and dragging my thumbs under my eyes to wipe away my tears.
That kind of thinking would do me no favors. Janie would talk some sense into me. Then I’d visit my parents, see my dad with my own two eyes, and tell him I loved him and that I was sorry.
And then I’d be on a plane and on my way to spend July with the next man.
I wasn’t ready. Not this time. Not even close.
I needed time.
I needed a break.
I needed more sweet words from the lips of the man whose heart was etched in ink on the papers beside me.
With a shaky sigh, I rested my hand on top of the envelope and closed my eyes. “Thank you.”
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The End
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About the Author
Ali Parker is a full-time contemporary and new adult romance writer with more than a hundred and twenty books behind her. She loves coffee, watching a great movie and hanging out with her hubs. By hanging out, she means making out. Hanging out is for those little creepy elves at Christmas. No tight green stockings for her.
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She’s an entrepreneur at heart and loves coming up with more ideas than any one person should be allowed to access. She lives in Texas with her hubs and three kiddos and looks forward to traveling the world in a few years. Writing under eleven pen names keeps her busy and allows her to explore all genres and types of writing.
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Aaron: The Casanova Club #7
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Copyright © 2019 by Ali Parker
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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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> The novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and plot are all either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.
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First Edition.
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Editor: Eric Martinez
Cover Designer: Hang Le from Designs by Hang Le https://www.facebook.com/designsbyhangle/