Sincerely, Yours

by G. , Whitney

  Dropping my bike on the sidewalk right outside, I walked into the restaurant and spotted him sitting at a table with Stella. I rushed over to them—interrupting his words, and then I cried. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “To both of you … I’m so sorry.”

  He stood up and pulled me close, hugging me in a way I hadn’t felt since my sophomore year of high school. By the time he let me go, the sun had come all the way up, and Stella was asking a waiter to set a new place at the table.

  “I’ll um …” She looked between us. “I’ll let you two be alone. Rachel, it’s very nice seeing you here.”

  “Please stay,” I said, hugging her. “Please.”

  “Okay.” She returned my hug, and then she sat across from me.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, and then I cleared my throat. “Did my mom write you two long letters, too?”

  They nodded.

  “She told you that you should date each other?”

  “She did,” my dad said. “I told her she was out of her goddamn mind once I read it, and she must have known that would be my reaction. Days before she died, she had someone mail me another letter and it was worded in a different way. Your mother was very insightful, Rachel. She could read people like no one else I’d ever met.”

  “I cursed at her when she gave me my letter.” Stella laughed. “I was so mad at her for making plans for after she’d be gone, but as you know, that’s just how she was. She wanted things to be a certain way, even if she wouldn’t be there.” She paused. “She didn’t tell you about us in her letters?”

  “Not specifically.” I shook my head. “But I can see what she meant now. She mentioned Ethan in mine.”

  “Oh?” They said in unison.

  “Yes. Oh.” I looked between them.

  “What did she say?” My dad asked.

  “That she knew he didn’t trip down our steps when we first met.”

  “Of course, she knew that.” My dad smiled. “That’s all?”

  “No, she said she thought we would be good together later in life.”

  “We’ve always thought that,” my dad said. “We’d watch you two fight all day, every day, and then the next day, you’d still hang out together in “hatred” as you two claimed. You’re friends now, correct?”

  “We tried to be.”

  Stella raised her eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ll go to the beverage station and grab us some tea.” She stood up, and for a few seconds, I swore that my mother was sitting right next to me. Like she was telling me to say what I would’ve said if she was living right now.

  “Dad,” I said. “It’s a girl thing. Can I talk to Stella alone?”

  “Only if you’ll promise you’ll join us here again for dinner tonight.”

  “Promise.”

  He kissed my cheek and stood to his feet, walking outside.

  When Stella returned, she motioned for me to follow her into a private lounge area, and the second she shut the door, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  “I still hate him.” I cried. “I really fucking hate him.”

  “Rachel …”

  “I thought our relationship meant something, that if I was willing to stay, he would be willing to stay, too.” Tears fell down my face. “He’s the main reason why I’m on that damn ship again … He insisted on being my ‘first real boyfriend,’ so I thought … I just thought he, I could’ve sworn we—”

  “Calm down, Rachel.” She set the tea down and pulled me into a hug. “Calm down.”

  “He said he loved me.” I couldn’t stop talking. “Like, he said it in the mornings in his sleep, and I actually believed that shit.”

  She hugged me harder.

  “He’s amazing at words, and I want to believe them, but at the end of the day, his actions show that this was a fling and all we had was sex. It was really good sex, but if we were built on more, he wouldn’t have been so anxious to leave and go to New York for a program I know he doesn’t really want to be in. He just wanted to get away from me and my ‘emotions’ and fuck other people. I’m so stupid …”

  “Shhh.” She rubbed my back, waiting until I’d vomited all the words before making me sit up again. “Do you honestly think that Ethan doesn’t love you, Rachel?”

  No … “I have no reason not to believe otherwise,” I said. “I haven’t talked to him in a long time.”

  “Are you opening his letters?”

  “No, but—” I paused. “How do you know about his letters?”

  She smiled. “Trust me, I’m sure him calling us to ask if we’ve heard from you is his last resort, but if the way he’s sounded over the phone is any indication, I think he’s just as hurt as you.”

  “Well, good.” I wiped my eyes.

  “You don’t mean that.” She let out a light laugh. “And you know it.”

  “I just wish we’d never crossed the line. I wish we’d stayed enemies.”

  “Rachel Dawson,” she said, still laughing and handing me a Kleenex. “If you were really enemies, you would’ve never stayed in contact as long as you have, let alone lived together.”

  “We only stayed in contact with each other because no one else ever wrote me back.”

  “You sure about that?” She smiled. “Something tells me he would’ve reached out to you eventually.”

  “I doubt it.” I shrugged. “He didn’t even know I was doing Semester at Sea until I wrote to him.”

  She smiled. “Rachel, Ethan came by two weeks before his freshman year started and asked why he hadn’t seen you at any campus events. When we told him that you were doing Semester at Sea, he demanded that we give him a copy of your port schedule and directions on how to reach you. You just happened to write him first.”

  Track 31. How You Get the Girl (2:46)

  Rachel

  I waved at my dad and Stella as their cab headed for the airport several days later. When I couldn’t see them anymore, I walked to the gift shop that was closest to the ship, ready to collect final souvenirs before boarding again.

  Tossing a new set of postcards into my basket, I walked over to the wall of monogrammed pens and searched for Ethan’s name. When I found it, I picked up a matching hoodie and hat as well.

  Since I had phone service here, I was planning to use my final half hour to respond to some of the text messages he’d sent.

  Or maybe I should call. Maybe I should call from the ship, so we can talk longer than thirty minutes.

  Debating, I headed for the checkout line and set my stuff on the counter.

  “So, you really weren’t going to write me back?” A familiar deep voice said from behind. “You weren’t going to contact me at all?”

  What? I turned around and found myself face to face with Ethan. His sexy blue eyes gleamed under the lights, and his lips curved up into a smile.

  My heart damn near jumped out of my chest as he looked me up and down.

  “I’m happy that you’re here and not in Moscow,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Otherwise, I would’ve had to wait to see you in China next month.”

  “You would’ve flown there just to see me?”

  “In a heartbeat.”

  We stared at each other, and all the words I thought I wanted to say suddenly left my brain.

  “Miss?” The cashier called. “Miss, do you want me to ring up your things?”

  “She does,” Ethan said, stepping past me and handing her his credit card.

  We said nothing as she took her time scanning and bagging my souvenirs, and when she was finished, Ethan handed me the bag and slipped his arm around my waist—walking me outside.

  He led me over to a bench, but he didn’t sit down. He just stared at me.

  Not wanting to waste any of my remaining minutes, I let out a breath. “I was going to write you back. I just finished writing five letters this morning, and I was about to call or text you. I was still trying to see which one made
more sense, so it wasn’t like—”

  “I fucking love you, Rachel.” He interrupted my spiel. “I love you.”

  My heart sped up and he pressed his finger against my lips.

  “You heard me,” he said, smiling. “You don’t have to ask me what I just said, but because I know you’ll still need to hear it again …” He kissed my forehead. “I love you, Rachel Dawson, and I’ve loved you since I was seven and a half years old.”

  My eyes widened.

  He ran his fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry for not thinking about you when I signed off to go to New York for a program I didn’t even want to go to. That was beyond selfish, and you were right about me doing it for someone else’s approval.”

  “Did you just say that you’ve loved me since we were seven and half years old?”

  “Yes.” He pulled me close and kissed me until I couldn’t breathe. “Let me finish …” He waited until I’d caught my breath, then he rubbed his hands against my back. “I’m sorry for not telling you about New York first, for not being willing to stay like you were.” He paused. “And I know you’re about to get back on your ship, but I want you to know that I’m willing to go wherever you go from here on out to show you how much you’ve always meant to me. And as much as I enjoy writing you letters, I’d much rather see you in person every day.”

  “I’ll be done in a few months,” I said, smiling as he kissed me again. “And I can give you my updated port schedule.” I opened my purse and pulled out a copy of the new port stops.

  As he took it from my hands, a sound I knew all too well interrupted our moment.

  The ten bells at the top of the Eurodam rang out loud and clear, signaling that the ship was about to prepare to leave the port in exactly ten minutes.

  As if Ethan knew what the sound meant as well, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me like this was the last time, as if we were never going to see each other again, and he wanted to cement this moment into my memory.

  Pulling away from me, he kissed my forehead and sighed. “I really would prefer if we saw each other in person every day.”

  “Me, too.” I hugged him. “I’ll call you the second the phone room opens today, and I’ll send out those five letters, too.”

  Seven bells rang.

  He smiled and stepped back. “I’ll see you at your next port.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Really.”

  Unable to resist, I kissed his lips one more time before running toward the ship—looking over my shoulder every few seconds, until I couldn’t see him through the crowd anymore. When I made it aboard, I rushed to my room to search for my telephone access card.

  As I was rummaging through my top drawer, the last bell rang and a knock came to my door.

  “I’ll be at the roll call in one second!” I said, opening another drawer.

  The knock came louder and I held back a groan as I walked over to the door.

  “I said I’d be there in one second, I was just—” I gasped at the sight of Ethan in my doorway, blinking a few times to make sure this was real.

  “Like I was saying,” he said, smirking. “I really would prefer if we saw each other every day, and I will be seeing you at every port from now on.”

  “You’re completing your final semester at sea?”

  “Hell no.” He smiled. “I already graduated, remember?” He handed me a thick binder. “I took my girlfriend’s advice and looked up some Creative Writing programs. Turns out, there’s one that allows you to finish writing a novel at sea, as long as I teach two classes a week. I’ve heard life on this ship is fucking miserable if you’re alone, so I’m hoping that if the love of my life is aboard, that won’t be true.”

  I felt tears falling down my face. “You have your own room?”

  “No.” He kissed me. “I have a suite.” He looked behind me. “And from the looks of the size of your room, that’s where we’re going to be spending most of our time …”

  I blushed, unable to do anything but stare at him.

  “You may want to start making your way toward roll call,” he said, stepping forward and caressing my back. “I’ve heard that the new teacher who is in charge of it wants to get it over with as soon as possible, so he can get reacquainted with someone in his suite.”

  “Are you talking about kissing?”

  “I’m talking about fucking.” He laughed. “Well ‘making love’ as you prefer to say and read about.”

  “I like reading about both.”

  “Hmmm.” He kissed my forehead. “Well, seeing as though my current novel is a romance that has both, I’d appreciate your opinion.”

  He pointed to the binder he’d given me, and I raised my eyebrow.

  “You’re going to write a romance?” I flipped the binder over and saw the words, based on a true story. “If you’re putting a false sticker on your books to trick women like me into thinking this shit is based on a true story, I swear—”

  “It is.”

  “You’ve only been in one relationship where you’ve said the words, I love you, Ethan.”

  “I’m aware of that, Rachel.”

  “Okay …” I tapped my lip, not sure whether he was serious about writing a romance or not. “What type of trope is it?”

  “Enemies to lovers. Or more like friends to lovers who think they’re enemies. It’s a pretty interesting story for you, I think.”

  “Can’t wait to read it.” I smiled. “Do you have a working title?”

  “I do.” His lips briefly met mine and he pulled me into the hallway, toward the room for roll call. “I think you’ll love that part most of all.”

  “Would you like to tell me what it is?”

  He didn’t have to answer. When I opened the binder, I saw it printed on the first page of the binder in huge bold print.

  Forget You, Rachel

  —

  The End

  Sincerely, Arizona

  Extended Epilogue

  Track 33. Wonderland

  Arizona

  “I loved you then. I love you now. And I always will.”

  Carter’s words were currently running through my mind, and every memory I’d ever shared with him was coming into focus. From the time he pushed me off the swings when I was mid-air in fourth grade, to all the times he’d come to my room and spent the night as I cried over another breakup or disaster date in college.

  As I lay on top of him—my hands entwined with his after hours of lengthy, make-up sex, I wondered how I was ever going to leave. There had to be some exception about returning to school late with no penalty, some special clause about having your best friend tell you he loves you and being allowed to take some extra time off.

  Even if there wasn’t, I was tempted to call the dean of academics and ask if I could be the first.

  “Are you okay?” Carter brushed a strand of hair out of my face.

  I nodded.

  “Why are you so quiet, then? What are you thinking about?”

  “France.”

  Smiling, he looked directly into my eyes. “You’re going back to school on time, Ari. And as much as I’d like for you to, I won’t let you stay this time either.”

  “What makes you think I was thinking about staying?” I asked. “I was actually just thinking about how I can’t wait to get back.”

  “In that case, I can take you to the airport right now.” His lips curved into a smirk, and I rolled my eyes—unable to keep up that charade.

  “I only have three and a half days left here,” I said softly. “I feel like I wasted most of my time being mad at you.”

  “No, you wasted it being with Sean.”

  “Do you think he’ll ever talk to me again?”

  “Do you think I’m going to talk about him again?” He gave me a blank stare. “In my bed of all places?”

  “Right. I wouldn’t talk to me either.”

  “He’ll get over it.” He rolled me off him and pulled me against his side.
“Tell me all the things I’ve missed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he said, running his fingers through my hair. “Outside of school, I have no idea what you’ve been doing all these months. Tell me everything.”

  “You want me to give you a play by play about what I do every day?”

  “Eventually, but I’d rather start with something simple, like what made you cut your hair.”

  “Do you not like it?”

  “I fucking love it.” He ran his fingers through it again. “I’m just curious. You’ve worn it the same way since freshman year.”

  “I never thought you actually paid attention to my hair.”

  “I didn’t.” He smiled.

  “Well, my roommate suggested it. She said getting a new look would help me start anew after some guy really hurt my feelings. She said a new haircut and style was the first step in forgetting all about him.”

  “Did it work?”

  “Absolutely. I haven’t thought about him since.”

  We both laughed and he sat up, slowly pulling me with him.

  “Since we only have three and a half days left,” he said, “how do you want to spend them?”

  “Right here is just fine.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “Are you insinuating more sex?”

  “No.” I blushed. “But if I was, I don’t think that’d be a huge problem. Would it?”

  “No, but…” His voice trailed off, and he stood up and walked over to his dresser.

  He picked up his phone and tapped the screen a few times—mumbling words I didn’t understand. When he was done talking to himself, he put on a pair of jeans.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” His eyes finally met mine.