Chapter 6
The Letter
Savannah
Some things were more than just things. They represented something else entirely. Savannah stared at the small white envelope in her hand. The paper wasn’t truly white, it was an off shade, the business kind that offices used. The stamp had been placed on the corner haphazardly. It was thin, likely containing only a single sheet of paper, folded three times.
The scrawling handwriting on the front, oddly neat and artistic, could only belong to one person. Mike.
She’d half expected him to show up on her doorstep, after her father had come home from the club a few nights ago and confessed that he’d told Kian everything. Everything except what he doesn’t know. However, Kian was a smart man. It wouldn’t be long before he connected the dots and told Mike.
Which meant she had two options. Lie or admit the truth. She didn’t think it was within Mike’s rights to demand a paternity test, but what did she know. He might hire some fancy lawyer, being as he had money, but so did her parents. They could fight back, but was it worth it? If she lied, she didn’t know if she could do a convincing job. She’d never been able to pull off dishonesty with any amount of theatrical flair. It just wasn’t believable.
Her eyes slowly returned back to her name on the envelope. Her hand trembled and the paper vibrated, almost imperceptibly. Her name was written with such flourish, as though time and attention had gone into the placement and making of every single letter. It didn’t make sense, but she was oddly touched. Mike could have scrawled her name on the front and thrown the thing in the mailbox, but like everything he did, all his art, he did it with care. Mike was one of the finest artists she’d ever seen. She thought he was wasted on tattooing, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he enjoyed it.
Savannah had received the mail earlier that morning. She’d opened the box expecting the usual bills and what not and instead found the envelope with her name. Knowing right away that it was from Mike, she’d hidden it in her desk until Carter was finally asleep for the night. Her parents were tucked in down the hall. The house was entirely quiet.
Under the golden glow of the light from her desk lamp, Savannah slowly stroked her hand across the smooth, flowy script. She was almost disappointed that the letters weren’t raised or indented. He really had written her name with the utmost care.
Her heart pounded wildly and her entire body broke out in a cold sweat as she grabbed the letter opener from the left hand corner of her desk and slit the envelope top in one fluid motion.
She hesitated, hand gripping the letter opener far too tight for far too long before she set it aside. The tremors that started originated from somewhere deep inside. Her hands shook violently as she slid out the letter. It was as she thought. Folded three times, almost perfectly symmetrical.
Fear held her in the grip of its clutches for a few long moments before she realized she was being ridiculous. She’d waited all damn day to open that letter, had thought of nothing but. Finally she flipped open the folds and stared down at the single sheet of paper. The writing there was small, but not cramped, as neat but not as flowy as her name on the outside. The blank ink stood out in stark contrast to the creamy white paper.
It was so pretty it made Savannah wonder why no one sent letters anymore.
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep, fortifying breath. Her heart beat out a wild pace, knocking painfully against the underside of her ribs. She felt fluttery inside and couldn’t determine exactly if it was good or bad. It just felt a little painful.
Slowly, so very slowly, she began to read.
Savannah.
I wanted you to know that I’ve thought about contacting you for a long time. I’ve thought about you every single day since we broke up. If that’s corny as hell, then so be it. I’m no writer and I’m certainly no poet. I just wanted you to know.
I thought about showing up at your house, but didn’t want to scare or pressure you. I didn’t want us to say things that neither of us meant and thought this would be the best way to keep us from doing that.
Kian told me you have a child. I could ask you if it’s mine. I could ask you a thousand other questions. I won’t. Not now. Not ever, unless you choose to tell me and welcome the dialogue. Know that I am not angry. I understand that sometimes life throws us curveballs we don’t expect and we don’t always know how to deal with them. I’m not saying that’s the case, but if it is, just know that it’s alright.
If you don’t have someone in your life already, or if the child is mine and you would welcome me being a part of its life, please tell me. I assume you still know my number, but this kind of conversation is probably better done in person. I’ll stay at the shop late every night this week. If you would like to talk, please come in. I’ll keep the door unlocked until nine. My last appointment leaves at seven every night. There will be no one else there. I’ll make sure of it.
Even if the child isn’t mine, I’ll be honest and say it doesn’t matter. I miss you. I always have. I always will. I don’t want to overstep or pressure you. Just know that I’m here if you need it.
Mike.
Savannah set down the letter. Her eyes had long ago, right from the first line, filled up with tears. They spilled over, clogged up her throat, burned her eyes and the bridge of her nose. He doesn’t even know if it’s a boy or girl.
She thought for so long that he’d be angry that she hadn’t extended any form of communication. She was so afraid of what he’d say, of how he’d judge her for not knowing how to tell him. Or worse, she was afraid that he might not want anything to do with his son, or with her, if she had told him.
The time had come. There was no running from the truth any longer. She knew it as soon as Kian spotted her with Carter outside the car that morning.
She knew that she had to do the right thing and go to the shop. Even if she couldn’t find the words, she just had to go and somehow hope that everything might turn out alright.