Lastly, you accused me of dating women like Xio and then forgetting them. I never dated Xio. I can see why you had this mistaken impression after seeing us together on Valentine’s Day, but Xio works at Pageant and we were on our way to a colleague’s partythat night. You mentioned Andrea too. That wedding was our first and last date. We didn’t have much in common. I don’t deny that I have dated gorgeous women. The women in my social circle are often beautiful, intelligent, charming—sometimes a combination of the three. I won’t speak ill of any of them. But I must stop there, because I have already told you where you stand in my estimation, and I won’t repeat the hated sentiment.
Rachel, please know that I am deeply sorry for everything. If I could take back everything and continue bumping into you around town, nothing more than a friendly neighbor, I would. I might never forgive myself for my idiocy, but I hope you can.
Respectfully yours,
Christopher W. Butkus
It felt as though hours passed before my mind pieced itself back together. I gazed out the window as we drove through precarious gray-and-purple mountain roads and then through lush green countryside dotted with cows. And great thinker that I am, the first coherent thought that dropped into my mind was: Who washeto have such lovely handwriting?Honestly.And the nerve of him accurately naming my feelings and… and writing so eloquently.How?Andwhy?And…
Look, if what he’d written about Stephen was true, then Christopher was a good friend, and Stephen was a liar. But that did not dismiss Christopher’s rich-white-man entitlement. Or the fact that he was arrogant enough to profess his love for me in the most awkward and unwanted way possible.No, thank you.
The letter was shoved inside my backpack, and I nudged mybackpack deeper underneath the seat in front of me, as if it would make me feel better to be two inches farther away from it. The hated letter.
I won’t repeat the hated sentiment.
Had he really used the wordlove?
I had to stop thinking about this immediately. For my sanity. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
CHAPTER 18
AFTER WORK ON MONDAY,Sumira invited us over to her apartment building’s rooftop. We settled onto the sun-warmed settees under a large patio umbrella.
“On the menu tonight”—Sumira waved a hand over the little spread she’d laid out—“chips and dip. And some fresh gossip. Who wants to go first?”
“Well…” Amy wore a secretive smile. “I kind of have an update.”
“A good one, I hope?”
“Yeah. Ryan has been putting in some effort. He actually suggested that we try couples therapy. And not only that, he actually did the research and found a therapist for us to try.”
“Dang. Good for him!” I scrutinized Amy’s face, looking for signs of doubt. “And how are you feeling about… everything? About him?”
“Honestly, it means a lot to me that he’s trying so hard. He’s making me feel like, I don’t know, like our marriage is important to him.”
“As he should!” Sumira interjected.
“So I’m happy for the moment. I feel like we’re on the right track. We’ll see how things go from here, I guess.”
We all told her that we were happy for her. And then they immediately turned to me.
“Okay, spill, Rachel.” Eva’s mouth was full of guacamole.
I’d filled them in on the events of the past weekend in the group chat, but they wanted details. And they wanted to see the letter. Especially Amy, who had a thing for Jane Austen heroes.
“I still can’t believe he wrote you an actual letter.” She cracked open a La Croix. “How romantic is that?”
“Are we calling it romantic?” Sumira wrinkled her nose. “This was an unwanted advance.”
“Right,” Eva agreed. “There’s nothing swoon-worthy about pursuing a person who’s not into you.”
“I know, but, like, Rachel said he has nice handwriting.” Amy raised her eyebrows like that settled it.
I sighed and extracted the letter from my bag.
“Here. Go nuts.” With a shriek, they all dived toward the now somewhat worn piece of paper.
“Stop, don’t rip it!” Amy held the letter with both hands as Eva and Sumira read over her shoulders.
