Page 29 of Ardently Yours

As expected, the proposal regarding the restoration of the theater went off without a hitch. They’ll be contacting you shortly to include you in further plans.

I hope things are going well with you and Bronnie. I can’t remember the last time we went this long without emailing each other. Have I scared you off? I’m sorry if I did something to upset you.

Unfortunately, it seems I’ve forgotten how to get through my day without reading about yours.

Missing your emails, Arden

November 12, 1996

Dear Arden,

I’d be surprised if the issues with the theater hadn’t worked out. You probably just told them your name to get the owner to bend over backward to get into your good graces.

I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or snarky, but I don’t believe you didn’t know I was in the dark about you being famous.

Finding out who you are is freaking me out.

My parents never had cable TV. We had one PBS station and CBS. I didn’t watch it very often. We’re big readers in my family. Well, not Max or Mom, but the rest of us. I read mostly sci-fi and fantasy novels like Anne McCaffrey, NOT tabloids or (I’m ashamed to admit) newspapers or magazines.

When I was in New York, I was focused on my grades and Steve. When I moved into my trailer, I didn’t bother getting cable either. You don’t miss what you’ve never had. You must have thought I was hilarious. The stupid hick who lives under a rock.

In the library there were articles that called you the man responsible for dismantling an entire crime syndicate. I read about the assassination attempt against you. It must have been terrifying. It scared me, and it was already in the past.

Now, they say there’s nothing left of the Vinucci family in New York at all. Are they really gone? The fact that you have bodyguards makes me worry they aren’t.

Part of me wishes you hadn’t kissed me at all. You said it changed nothing, but it changed everything, Arden, in ways I don’t even know how to explain. It made me crave things Ishouldn’t. I haven’t figured out how to put you back in the “friend” box. Even though you ARE my friend.

I’m working on it.

That probably sounds overdramatic for a kiss, but you were my first in years.

I understand what you meant now about what it would be like if the world thought we had a relationship, though.

There’s no way I could handle the attention you get from the press. It would be a nightmare for me. I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through and for the pressure you’ve lived with your whole life.

You do an incredible job protecting your boys. Beyond the paparazzi at the funeral when Henry was two, there are hardly any photos of them. I hadn’t realized what an incredible level of trust you were showing me by sending me pictures of your children.

Your life is hard for me to fully imagine. From the emails and photos you’ve sent me, the boys seem well-rounded and happy, though. You’re a great dad.

I’m embarrassed that I’ve been talking to you like you’re a normal guy, and not YOU.

I read something about you potentially running for president in a few years. That sounds like hell on earth to me.

Who do you unload to about all that stress?

You tell me you’re tired sometimes. We talk about kids and family. Parenting and that sort of thing. But you’ve never really talked about the public part of your life. Why is that?

Always, Charlotte

November 12, 1996

Sweet Charlotte,

I realized the day of Steve’s funeral that you didn’t recognize my name or face. I hope you can forgive me. Anyone who says, “Don’t you know who I am?” sounds like a pompous jackass. Knowing you didn’t have preconceived ideas based off tabloid headlines felt freeing.

As strange as it may sound, I believe we were able to get to know each other more authentically because you didn’t know who the press said I was first.

So much of what is out there about me is misleading, if not an outright lie.

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