“Well, it was a valiant effort. And a very sweet gesture. But…why?”
“You told Soraya that, deep down, that was what you wanted. Prince Charming to ride up on a white horse and whisk you away. I got the horse part right.” He frowned. “That was about it, though.”
It took me a few seconds to realize where he’d gotten that from.
“I mentioned that in my most recent letter to Ask Ida. Did she accidentally send you the reply again?”
That would explain why I’d never heard back from her.
He straightened but was still struggling for air. “No, actually,” he gasped, “Soraya sent your letter to me—but on purpose this time. Told me I’d screwed up enough and that I needed to step up and fix it. Said if I didn’t find a horse and show up here, she was going to write back to you and tell you to forget about me and find someone else. I couldn’t let that happen. The truth is…I’d been looking for a good kick in the ass for a while and that was it. But, Riley, it was only a matter of time anyway, even if she hadn’t given me my marching orders. Because I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
I began to tear up. “I’ve missed you so much.”
He closed his eyes. “Thank God.” Then he opened them and stepped toward me. “I’m sorry I was a jerk. I don’t even know how to explain what happened. I was just starting to feel so much toward you and got a little freaked.” He cupped my cheeks. “When you were talking so passionately that night at the wedding about how no one has the right to cheat on someone, I just knew you were the one for me, that I could trust you—that you would be my ride-or-die. But it scared the hell out of me at the same time. But in the days we’ve been apart, I’ve been miserable. And I’ve come to realize that I’m more scared not to take this chance with you.”
In that moment, it all made sense: everything that had happened thus far in my life, all of the days where everything felt meaningless and not ‘letter worthy’, were necessary to get me here, to this point, with this man. A man I was destined to meet.
He pulled me close. Wrapping my arms around him, I wasted no time pressing my lips against his. He groaned into my mouth, the sound a mixture of relieved and victorious at the same time. The second he began to swirl his tongue inside my mouth and I tasted him, I knew there would be no holding back now. Tonight we were finally going to get it right.
Despite the frigid weather, I nearly melted when he spoke against my lips. “Riley, I know that how we met seemed like a series of mistakes, but I can’t help but feel like it was far from that—that we were somehow meant to be. I’ve never felt happier than when I’m with you.”
He’d said aloud exactly what I’d been thinking.
“Me, too. We’ve each made mistakes along the way. But, Kennedy, you’re the best mistake that’s ever happened to me.”
There might have been no white horse in sight, but when he lifted me and carried me up the stairs, it sure as heck felt like something Prince Charming would do.
Kennedy nuzzled my neck as we lay together. It was a typical lazy Saturday morning. We loved to have coffee and breakfast in bed on the weekends and just lounge around for hours after a long work week.
I couldn’t believe it had been nearly a year since we’d moved in together. Technically, we officially began shacking up a few months after he showed up at my doorstep that night on the horse. In truth, he never really left me after that day, though. One of us was always spending the night at the other’s place from the get go. But eventually, we figured we were just wasting money by keeping both apartments, so Kennedy opted to give up his so that I could be closer to work. That was the kind of man I had—one who always put me first. One who always let me be on top—just how I liked it.
Kennedy suddenly got up off of the bed and cold air replaced the warmth of his body. I admired his sculpted back and utterly perfect ass as he put on some jeans and walked over to the desk. He grabbed the pile of mail that he brought in after he went out to fetch us coffees earlier.
Returning to bed, he flipped through the pile of bills and other junk and stopped upon a large red envelope that looked like a Christmas card. He held it up and flashed a wicked grin. “Oh boy. It’s from your mother.”
I cringed. “Great.”
“Is that the dreaded letter?”
I shook my head. “’Tis the season, I guess, but I don’t know.”
“I thought you said she learned her lesson after last year, that she wasn’t going to send the Christmas letter out anymore.”
“Yeah, that’s what she said. Maybe it’s just a card?”
“Well, open it and find out.”
Ripping it open, I dreaded what might have been inside. Instead of a Christmas letter on the thick stock paper my mother usually ordered, inside the envelope was a folded page from a newspaper.
I unfolded it and saw that it was an Ask Ida column. One I haven’t seen. I haven’t paid as much attention to the advice column lately, for some happy reason.
Dear Ida,
I have a problem I was hoping you could help me with. My lovely daughter Riley has informed me that my annual Christmas letter is a bit obnoxious and egotistical. You see, I like to brag about my kids, but I now realize that boasting in such a way could be interpreted by some as tasteless. I’ve therefore opted not to send a letter out to family and friends this year and will instead just do traditional Christmas cards. So, sadly I won’t get to tell everyone that Kyle has once again foregone Christmas in the States to head to Africa and fix the cleft palates of more precious children in need. I also won’t be able to tell them that my daughter Abby’s twins just gained entrance into the Montessori preschool. Or that Abby is now pregnant with my first grandson, all while continuing to play with the New York Philharmonic. And I won’t get to tell them that my youngest daughter, Olivia, placed first this year in the New York State Gymnastics Regionals.
But here’s my dilemma: I might have some REALLY big news to share soon. And I wondered if you thought it might upset Riley too much if I went ahead and shared only that news with everyone, particularly if the news pertained to her?
Sincerely,
Mrs. Braggart
My mother’s question was followed by the typical response.
Dear Mrs. Braggart,
Did you say your daughter’s name is Riley? I think I know exactly who you are.
In fact, your obnoxious letters were what first prompted Riley to write to us.
If you ask me, those letters saved her.
If she hadn’t written to me about them, she would have never gotten out of her funk. I encouraged her to go out and live a little. But most of all, if she hadn’t sent me that email, she might never have sparred over email with that Kennedy dude. Their heated interactions were the foreplay that ultimately brought them together.
So, one might say you started it all, Mrs. Braggart. You should be proud. If it weren’t for that annoying Christmas letter, Kennedy wouldn’t be getting down on his knee… right this second.
I stopped reading.
Getting down on his knee?
It took me a few seconds to realize what was actually happening.