Page 90 of Highland Stars
Malcolm. She’s gonna say Malcolm.
“My dentist?” I say because she knows that I know what she’s gonna say.
She grins. “Yes, your dentist.”
I set a plate down in front of her.
“Oh, honey, you didn’t have to do that. I was fixin’ to get up.” She’s upbeat, but the circles under her eyes tell me she’s worn down from a long day on her feet.
“I’m glad to help, Mom.”
I move back to the stove and fix my own plate.
“I have a question for you,” Mom says. “And I don’t want you to think too hard about it.”
I laugh and set my plate on the table. “Alright, hang on a sec while I turn my brain down a notch.”
Mom gives a closed-mouth smile, her mouth full of spaghetti. Once she swallows, she continues. “I just mean, answer quickly. Where do you see yourself in five years?”
My mind instantly springs to Malcolm. Without my permission, my brain has us living in his parents’ farmhouse. And there’s a baby.
My eyes focus again on the present, and I look at my mom.
“In Scotland with Malcolm.”
“I thought so.” She sips her tea. “So what are you waiting for?”
“Mom, were you always this adventurous? I mean, we’ve had a ton of fun adventures. But this seems next level.”
“Always.”
I grin, and I feel lighter than I have since Morvan’s warning. Maybe the two weeks weren’t necessary, but I’m going to let them play out for Malcolm, just in case.
It’s been two days since Mom helped me decide what to do. We have a plan, and I couldn’t be more excited.
I’m flipping through the mail and find a fine ivory envelope addressed to me in sub-par, but still nice calligraphy. It was postmarked from Scotland. I turn the envelope and find Malcolm’s address on the back.
Malcolm broke the rules.
But also … he learned calligraphy.
I run to the house and throw the rest of the mail on the entryway table, then carefully open the envelope on the way to the couch. I collapse onto it, then slide a paper from the envelope. Its greeting is written in careful calligraphy, and aglance at the bottom shows his signature written the same way. The meat of the letter is written his normal nice script.
Dearest Makenna,
Before you think I’ve broken the rules, I’d like to point out that you specified no texts, or calls. I found a loophole, and I’m not even a lawyer. Does this count as contact if I’m not expecting a response?
Oh lass, to say I’ve missed you would be a gross understatement. I feel as if you’ve run off to Georgia and taken a large part of me with you. I find myself constantly wondering what you’re doing. How you’re feeling. If you’re missing me like I’m missing you, or if the worst has happened and you’ve decided ours was simply a vacation romance needing no further exploration. In case you haven’t firmly made up your mind, I’d like to mention a few things. And I hope you’ll have pity on me.
Firstly, I miss the way you feel in my arms. I knew when I carried you up my stairs that you felt good, then when I held you to keep you warm in the castle I knew I’d be hard pressed to ever find a place I’d rather be. And each time since it felt more and more right. Did you feel it the way I did? Was it at the same time electricity and peace? That’s the only way I know to describe it.
Next, life is dull and boring without your funny and sweet ways. Your quick wit, and silly sense of humor, brought life to my days. Life I didn’t realize I was missing until you came and left. And just thinking about your tender heart makes me want to hold you all day, every day. See the previous paragraph.
Lastly (but make no mistake, this is not an exhaustive list), I miss your beautiful turquoise eyes. The way they sparkle when you’re saying something funny, and the way they lock-in on mine when we’re about to kiss (something else I miss but won't dare get started on).
Isn’t that a sad list? If only there was a way to remedy these problems.
Yours,
