“Fuck . . .” I sigh, taking in the lipstick print.
“What?” Ren asks, standing on her toes to see the letter.
I turn it around for them to see how lucky I am. “She kissed it with lipstick at the bottom.”
“Would you look at that.” Ren smiles. “That’s a nice touch, and that also means she’s very interested. Someone who didn’t like your letter wouldn’t have kissed the bottom of it.”
“But do you think this means she’s . . . loose?” I ask. “I mean, I like a frisky woman, but I also don’t want someone who’s ready to throw down after one letter. Trust me, I didn’t wax poetic or anything. I asked her about spaghetti.”
“Wow, you sure know how to get a girl’s gears grinding,” Griffin says, just as Ren swats him in the stomach.
“Be nice to your brother. Clearly he’s a hot mess when it comes to women.”
“Hey, no. I’m not a hot mess. Because of me and my romantic ways, all my brothers have significant others right now. Reid especially. He was lost without me when it came to making up with Eve. I’m a goddamn sorcerer of love . . .”
For other people.
“Let me rephrase that.” Ren clears her throat. “You’re a hot mess when it comes to your own relationships.”
“Now that, I’ll accept.”
Griffin opens another shipping box and says, “Stop stalling and read the letter out loud.”
“Yes, please read it to us,” Ren says, clasping her hands together.
“Okay, but you have to promise you’re not going to tell Reid and Rogan. This is a privilege and I don’t want it to be mocked in our sibling group text.”
“I have better things to do with my life than mock you through text, Brig.” He drops three orange creamsicle fudge squares in the box and ads a Lobster Landing sticker at the top before closing it.
I think we can all agree that’s a fucking lie, but whatever. I’m too excited to care right now.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Dear Secret Pen Pal—”
“Oh God, it’s already too cute,” Ren says.
“Can you refrain from interrupting?” I ask in a teasing tone.
“Sorry, proceed,” she replies with a smile.
“Dear Secret Pen Pal. I’ll be honest, I was quite surprised to receive your letter since I didn’t apply to be in the Summer of Love. My meddling friend filled out an application for me, but I can’t say that I’m not happy about it because I am. I’m very happy she intervened.” I look at both Ren and Griffin and say, “I have butterflies in my stomach.”
Ren clasps her hands together. “Oh my God, I’m dying already. How cute is she? I like how upfront she is.”
“Me too. I like her a lot.”
“You’ve read three sentences,” Griffin says, cutting in. “Why don’t you finish the letter before you start declaring a statement of infatuation?”
He’s cranky.
Sheesh.
Turning back to the letter, I continue, “You see, I’ve been unlucky in love as well, but I think it’s because I haven’t put myself out there. Too scared to get hurt. Too scared to lose someone else in my life. But even though it’s terrifying, I think I’m ready to take that first step to something new. Please excuse me if I’m skittish, or come off as hesitant. It’s not because I’m not interested, it’s because I’m scared. All that I ask is you give me time, we don’t rush this communication, and you get to know me on a deeper level through this anonymity. Then maybe, one day, when the time is right, we could go out on a real date. That’s if . . . you want to ask me out. Sincerely, Your Secret Pen Pal. P.S. I twirl my spaghetti like any other decent human out there.” I put the letter down and take a deep breath. “Wow.”
“I mean, that was a pretty good first letter,” Griff says, finishing wrapping up a block of fudge. “She’s basically telling you she wasn’t ready to step outside of her comfort zone, but she’s willing to, for you, for this experiment. That’s huge, man.”
“You think?” I ask, feeling my heart rate accelerate, my excitement spiking. “I didn’t write much in my letter to her, but her response makes me wonder if I should take it up a notch.”
“Yes. You need to,” Ren says, helping Griffin hold the package of fudge together and taping it. “It seems like she’s genuinely invested in this program. I mean spaghetti twirling is a good icebreaker, but I think she’s looking for something with more substance.”
I nod, my mind whirling with possibilities. Excitement builds. Ideas are born and I realize . . . this might very well be it.
This might be my true chance at finding the love of my life.
“I think I’ve spent my entire life building to this moment,” I say in all seriousness. “All the Lovemark movies I’ve watched over the years, the books I’ve read, the moments I’ve helped create for my siblings, it’s all been practice for this moment, for when I finally claim a girl of my own. I was made to woo, and damn it, I’m going to fucking woo.” I stand from the stool and fold up the letter. “I’m going to woo this girl so hard.”
“But what if she’s not the girl for you?” Griff asks, playing the devil’s advocate. My dad did the same thing when we were younger.
“Impossible,” I say, because I’m still reeling from what Mrs. Davenport said about us. I’ve been wanting to get you two together for years. That has to mean that I’ve known her for years, or we’ve at least run in similar circles for Mrs. Davenport to notice us . . . together. Doesn’t it? “I can feel the cosmic activity swirling around me. Just like four years ago when that ghastly hag cursed me with broken love. Yeah, it’s about to be fixed. I need to go back to my place and think up some ideas. The Summer of Love is upon us, and I’ll be damned if this doesn’t work out for me.”
“Go get her,” Ren says as I leave out the back door, with pep in my step.
She wants honesty and substance? Well look out, Secret Pen Pal, things are about to get real.
Reid: So . . . Brig thinks he’s going to break the curse this summer.
Griffin: Dude, I told you not to say anything.
Brig: How DARE you, Griffin? I trusted you.
Rogan: What’s happening? Is this about the Summer of Love?
Reid: Brig has another chance for love on the line. Let’s hope he doesn’t fuck it up like the other ones.
Brig: I didn’t fuck things up. They just didn’t . . . pan out the way I hoped.
Griffin: This seems promising.
Brig: Thank you, Griff.
Reid: Just as promising as that tourist, what was her name . . . Melinda?
Brig: Not even close. It was Yamina. And I didn’t fuck that up. She just, well, she didn’t like all the love I was giving her.
Reid: You suffocated her and sent her fleeing for Connecticut.
Griffin: Why can’t I place Yamina?
Rogan: Pretty sure it was right before he got that blowup doll to practice on.
Brig: THERE WAS NO BLOWUP DOLL. REID WAS DRUNK AND MADE THAT UP.
Reid: Best rumor I’ve ever spread *chuckles*