Page 136 of Nineteen Letters

“You must have been having a pleasant dream because you kept smiling.” I sit up, but when I don’t reply, he clears his throat before adding, “I’ve missed watching you sleep, Jem.”

He has?Did he do that often?

His gaze flickers down to my hand, to the engagement ring that’s still adorning my finger.

“I was just trying it on. It’s so pretty,” I say, lifting my hand and moving it from side to side so I can glimpse the sparkly diamond. When I go to remove it, he places his hand over mine.

“Please don’t take it off,” he pleads.

“I …”

“Please. I’m not trying to pressure you, and don’t worry, I won’t get the wrong idea about you wearing it. I just want to see it on your hand. Whether or not we live together as husband and wife again, I bought it for you to wear … it’s yours.”

He glances down at his lap, and the sadness I see on his face hurts my heart. I raise my hand and run it down the side of his face. “I’ll leave it on,” I whisper.

Braxton’s eyes keep moving between my face and the ring on my finger as I eat breakfast. I’m glad I kept it on because I can see how happy it makes him. There was a part of me that didn’t want to take it off, but despite what he said, I still worried he’d get the wrong idea.

There’s no denying that I have feelings for him … he’s on my mind all the time, especially when we are apart.

When we’re together, I feel happy, and when we’re not, I miss him. But I still have a long way to go before I’m ready for anything like that. What I feel isn’t enough. I want to feel the way I did before the accident.

He was so sweet when he came to my house last night. He asked me how I was feeling and when I said sad, he told me to scoot over and then lay down beside me. We stayed there, me wrapped in his arms, and it made me wonder if this was how he’d held me the first time I went through the loss.

I ended up falling asleep again, but this time there were no dreams. I desperately wanted to ask him whether he had given me those baby socks, but I’m not ready to disclose that information just yet. A scattered dream here and there isn’t enough to warrant that. I don’t want to get anybody’s hopes up until I’m sure.

After I helped Braxton clean the breakfast dishes, we visited his father before he dropped me back at my mum’s.

“I have another letter for you,” he says as we sit in the driveway. “There’s nothing sad in this one, I promise,” he adds with a gentle smile.

Sliding his hand into my hair, he pulls my face towards his. I part my lips when his mouth meets mine. I can see why the old me wanted to kiss him so much. I’m officially addicted to his lips.

He draws back slightly. “I hope you have a nice day. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” I whisper.

Neither of us moves. It’s getting harder and harder to leave him.

Letter eighteen…

Dearest Jemma,

The thirty-first of December 2014, and the clock had just struck midnight. I slid my arms around your waist from behind. “Happy New Year, Jem,” I said, as I planted a soft kiss on your cheek. We were standing on our back deck, watching the fireworks in the distance. I loved how the neon colours in the sky reflected in the water.

“Happy New Year, Brax,” you replied as you turned your head and brushed your lips against mine.

We’d been living in our dream house for almost six months. We loved it, but there was a part of us that missed our tiny shack. You cried your eyes out the day it was demolished.

We ended up moving in with your mother for five months, while the new house was being built. It was trying at times, because she was in the depths of depression. Her parents had long since passed away, and your father had already moved out. It was incredibly hard to watch the shell of a person she had become.

“This year is going to be an amazing year,” you said, turning in my arms. “Just think, in nineteen days, I’m going to be Mrs Braxton Spencer.”

“Say that again.”

“Mrs Braxton Spencer.”

“It has a nice ring to it,” I said, gently brushing your hair back from your face. “I can’t wait for you to be my wife.”

“I can’t wait for you to be my husband.”