Page 172 of Sloane

Me: I’m not sure if “inappropriate” is the right word. Maybe “no longer applicable”?

Sloane: Why not? This will always be a special day for me.

I sent him a smiling face because I had no idea how to reply with words.

Sloane: Anyway, sweetness. I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy you changed my life a year ago, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Me: Are you flirting with me?

Sloane: What if I was?

Me: I’m not sure.

The dots indicating he was replying started and stopped, started and stopped, then finally…

Sloane: Fair enough. Give my daughter a kiss from me.

Me: You should come do it yourself soon.

Sloane: Just Millie?

He couldn’t say things like that to me. But a sliver of my heart, the part I’d clamped down tight, jumped for joy.

I sent back an emoji of a woman shrugging.

Apparently emojis were my go-to when I didn’t know what else to say.

~~~~

We continued exchanging letters several times a week, and when I prepared the Military Angel Thanksgiving packages, I made one for Sloane, too. Since he’d moved out the day before his birthday, I still had part of his present.

“I thought you said cheesecake gets smashed in transit?” Stu accused. “That’s why you don’t send it in care packages.”

“I think this one will survive.”

I didn’t tell him the wedge being sent was only going across town in a Tupperware dish, in a USPS box lined in bubble wrap. I was sending more durable desserts overseas.

“I mean, I’m not complaining. Your cheesecake is probably my favorite thing that you make.”

He wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Also in Sloane’s package was a collage frame filled with pictures of Millie that I’d originally planned on giving him for his birthday. Although I replaced a few pictures with more recent photos of her, I left the one of her in the hospital I’d made a copy of for him, along with the one of her and Tank the first time they met, and a few older ones, so he could see how much she’d grown and changed in just a few months’ time. For old time’s sake, I included some of the store-bought snacks I knew he liked, along with some jerky.

Second guessing myself all the way to the post office about whether I should send it, I quickly paid the postage for all three packages and handed the boxes off to the postal worker behind the counter before I could change my mind.

The night before Thanksgiving, I was in the beach house kitchen making a dessert to take to my mom’s the next day. It was just Millie and I; Stu and Bobby had both left earlier that day to spend the long weekend with family. No one had replaced Crash yet, although Bobby had moved into his room. I guess that side of the house was a lot quieter since it was away from the main living area.

The sound of my phone ringing made me jump, and I lunged for it since my baby girl was sound asleep in her playpen in the family room.

I answered it without looking at who was calling.

“Hello?”

“You are the most thoughtful woman on the planet,” came a deep voice that I still heard in my dreams.

His greeting made me smile, and I put the call on speaker, so my hands were free to keep working on the pie filling I was making.

“I take it you got my care package.”

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