Page 67 of Dear Future Husband

It was intriguing, reading my biography of experiences I couldn’t remember. It felt foreign, maybe like a prank someone was pulling on me until I readstatements that resonated with me so deeply it could only be my words.

I read a lot about my mom and our relationship. My mom and I had been close. My brother, Liam, and I—not so much. Despite that, I could feel the love and admiration I had for my twin brother leaking through the pages with each written word.

I read about my time in sports, hobbies I had, and skill sets I didn’t know I possessed. There were entries I talked about my thoughts on books and current events of the world. There were more than a couple passages of a fifteen-year-old Maybelle breaking down the philosophical messages of Mary Shelley’sFrankenstein.

Honestly, I was an odd child. So odd it was almost adorable—in a way. As I continued to read, I started falling in love with not only the child I’d been, but also the idea of this ominous future husband.

This innocent child that wrote so fervently on the pages, fell in love with someone who listened, understood, loved, protected, and valued her on a level that she already mirrored.

A love story that was writing itself before the main characters entered the scene.

It was inspiring.

This little girl—well, me—had fallen in love with a man she never met but knew without a doubt that she would know him when she found him. Because she took the time to get to know him—and maybe herself—through the pages of a blank book.

I wondered if she ever met him. If I knew him before I forgot. How devastating if that girl found her forever pen pal only to lose him to my broken memory.

My eagerness to learn more had me packing the journal with me for the weekend in case I got more time to read.

“How was your last therapy session today?” Chelsea asked as she pulled up the ramp onto the freeway.

I cringed.

Unfortunately, me and Annalise didn’t make up from that conversation Monday until the very last second. We were all business the last three sessions, except for the hug I pulled her into just before she walked out the door.

It was quick, but it healed that little tear between us before our relationship as doctor and patient ended. I got her number before she left. We planned to meet up for coffee in a couple weeks as a check-in and I was already really looking forward to it.

My first friend outside of the Turners.

“It was good, but as much as I love Annalise, I’m happy it’s done,” I admitted as I watched the world speed by my window.

Chelsea giggled. “Yes, it’ll be nice not having to watch your poor body get stretched apart like a rubber band four days a week.”

I smiled. Chelsea was there for almost all of my sessions, supporting and cheering me on the entire time. Even after I could get myself up and ready on my own for therapy, she was still there. A quiet companion during some of the worst pain I could remember feeling.

I was lucky to have a Chelsea Turner in my life.

“Sorry I’m ditching you this weekend.” I brushed a few of my frizzy curls from my face. “We’ll have to catch up on our romcoms next week.”

Chelsea put her hand on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Oh, don’t you dare be sorry, sweetheart. We’ll catch up on our movies, but I want you to have the best time this weekend. Besides, I won’t be home either.” She punctuated with a wink.

“Oh, okay. What kind of mischief are you getting up to?”

She smoothly lifted and lowered her petite shoulders.

“I have a date.” A coy smile pulled at her red tinted lips.

I nudged the woman playfully. “You hottie. Of courseyou do. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“It’s a secret, and this stays between you and me. I’ll tell Trey when he’s home this weekend.” Chelsea tried to shoot me a serious look, but shy humor still lingered.

“I swear, it’s our little secret.”

A few hours passed, and I was hopping out of the car in front of an apartment building. The sun had set, making it hard to make out all the surrounding details, but the building was attractive enough through the barely lit night.

Even in the limited light, like a moth to a flame, I found Trey leaning up against a wall. His arms were folded as he waited.

He sat up from the wall strolling to me and the car, a pleased smirk on his face. As he approached, I thought he might hug me, but he dipped last second, pulling my bag away to sling it over his shoulder. Then he placed a delicate kiss on my cheek, leaving me breathless.