Love Letter

Lynne:

"We are going to get food," I say and add "something that was lacking on our first date."

"I knew I had forgotten something. I had a checklist; I mean, there was perfect lighting, music, fake snow, romance, and then I completely forget the most important thing – food!" he proclaims, making me laugh. "I like that," he says after I quit laughing.

"Thanks," I say back, not used to receiving compliments. I am waiting for him to register that I am driving toward his cabin, but he does not say anything like I had on Christmas Eve if he realizes it.

"My cabin?" he asks when I put the range rover into park.

"Is that okay?" I ask, "I got Amanda's number from Kelly and asked if it was okay to use the kitchen here since my house is roaming with my family members," I blurt out, nervous all of a sudden.

"Yeah, that is fine," he says, and I know something is off with him. We walk up to the cabin in silence, and he grabs the key out from his back pocket. We enter the cabin, which is smaller than I was expecting, but it has a cozy feeling. You could tell that it was a place of relaxation instead of always on the go. That was wrong with so many people's houses; it was a place to come and go and never for downtime. My brothers were always coming and going, and they were hardly ever at home throughout high school. I was the opposite, always at home, making sure I had time in my room. My room was my comfort zone, and my mother always stayed away. I never had to worry about her roaming into my room... except for the one night that I needed someone more than anything.

"Okay, you have the living room when you come in – the kitchen is through that door there," Ian says, breaking me out of dark memories I wish I could leave behind and never think about again. He is pointing at the salon doors – "bathroom is down the hall first door on the left, and I think that covers everything," he says.

I start removing my jacket and winter wear to leave them on the chair closest to the door. Ian mutters that he will be right back and disappears down the hall to a door on the right. While he is absent, I walk around studying the living room, eyeing the pictures on the mantel above the fireplace. There is a picture of Ian's whole family; it is hard to tell when it was taken since it has both a younger Amanda and Ian in it. A yellow lab lies in front of them; I had always wanted a dog. Ian had changed from a gangly toothpick boy into a man.

"I see you found the goods," Ian says, watching me looking at the family photograph; he was watching my face. "That was my freshman year of high school. I know I was a looker. Don't have to tell me more than once," he says, grabbing the picture and putting it back on the mantel.

"Oh, I see how it is," I say, walking toward the kitchen.

"See how what is?" he asks, something still missing from his usual demeanor.

"I show you my picture, but I get to look at yours for ten seconds," I say, trying to act hurt.

"Sometimes the past is better left in the past," he says with no emotion in his voice.

"Okay," I say, "maybe this was a bad idea," I say, walking toward my jacket.

"No... It wasn't. I am glad you are here. I have never had a woman at my house." He says, grabbing me bringing me to a halt.

"Never?" I ask, confused and wondering how this is possible.

"I always stayed at their place... I do not know. I guess I like my privacy; it's dumb, and I am glad you are here. I really am," he says again, trying to reassure me, but I think he is trying to reassure himself more than me.

"Okay, then I need maybe forty-five minutes by myself in here, give or take," I say, stepping toward the kitchen.

"Oh no... If you are cooking – I am watching," he says, pulling out a chair and sitting down once we are standing in the kitchen.