Rachel

Eight weeks aboard the ship...

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I SEALED ANOTHER LETTER for Penelope, vowing not to send another unless she finally sent me one in return. Even though I’d embellished a bit of the fun I was having, this was my best experience on the ship so far, and I wanted to tell someone—anyone about it.

Just not Ethan.

I’d gotten so desperate for correspondence that I’d pulled out an old “Low Clearance Prisoners Who Want Pen Pals” list and considered several new writing relationships. I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it, though. Not yet, anyway.  

Carrying Penelope’s letter to the mailroom, I slid it into the outgoing box. I checked my personal mail box and saw a new “Hope you’re sailing well!” postcard from my Dad and forty-four unopened letters from Ethan.

He’s sent five new ones since my last port...

Too hurt to open them, I left them there and only took out my Dad’s postcard.

“Miss Dawson?” The mailroom attendant called my name, making me spin around.

“Yes?”

“A package was sent to you at the last port from your father,” she said, setting a pink box on the counter. “Want to sign for it and take it to your room, or do you want to save it until the next port?”

“Now would be perfect.” I smiled and signed the receiving papers, rushing back to my room to open it. My father had just sent me a care package full of sweets, beach pictures, and much-needed toiletries, so I wasn’t sure what else he would send so soon.

He usually does one package every two months...

Tearing open the box, I smiled at the pink envelope that was on top and addressed to me in typed blue print.

My smile faded as I noticed that the letter inside was written in a curvy handwriting I knew all too well.

Despite my pain, butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and before I could come to my senses and toss it away, I was reading the words.

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DEAR RACHEL,

I can’t believe that I have to send a package under your dad’s name to get you to open it. (I know you opened this.) I’ve sent you numerous letters with no response, and I can’t take it anymore.

How are you? Did they make any updates to the ship? What about the café? Is there still only one place to get coffee, or did they at least add another coffee station somewhere?

How about your classes? Are any of them more fun this time around?

I’m including a second letter about what’s going on with me in this box (A letter I’m sure you’ll put off reading for a while, but it’s there...), and I really wish you would write me back soon.

(I’ll Never) Forget You,

Ethan

PS—Just in case you’re itching to write someone, don’t use your list of low clearance prisoners. On the back of this letter, you’ll find a list of other artists in New York who literally thrive off receiving and writing letters.

PSS—I miss you

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I REREAD HIS WORDS and wiped away a few tears. Setting aside the envelope, I pulled all the white tissue paper out of the box and saw the other personal letter he’d written, along with a post-it note.

Because I’m sure you need some new ones...

I lifted the note and saw three new sets of romance stories from my favorite authors. Wiping away more tears, I selected the one I wanted to read most and crawled into bed with it.

When I flipped the cover open, there was one last note in Ethan’s handwriting.

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If you picked this book to read first, I think it’s fair to say that I do know you very well, Rachel. I also think it’s fair to say that we both said things we didn’t mean the last time we were together, but that situation was 100% my fault.

I should’ve told you about New York and I shouldn’t have made fun of you for being the hopeless romantic that you are...It’s part of the reason why I love you so damn much. (Why I didn’t know that all these years before, I’ll never know, but I do now...)

I really would love if you could write me back whenever you finish reading it...

Love,

Ethan