Page 74 of More Than Pen Pals

Then I begin to read.

Dear Ash,

I’m sorry for the way I treated you when we left the game on Friday. I know we’re not supposed to talk about our feelings in these letters, but I’m going to break that rule here. I’ll tell you why I acted like an idiot—because I was jealous of Melissa. She got to sit by you and talk to you and laugh with you, and the two of you somehow became friends right there before my very eyes. I wanted to be the one you were doing those things with.

I close my eyes. My chest hurts. I wanted her to be the one there with me, too. And I’m not sure if I can do this thing with Melissa now. Not if it might cause undue anxiety for Leslie. I take a deep breath and keep reading.

Thanks for your honesty about your job. I’m sorry your dad did that to you, but I’m not sorry you’re working with Carter-Jenkins. If you weren’t, we might not have reconnected, and we wouldn’t be able to work together to help Diego Sanchez spend his millions. I have some ideas about that, which you may hear about before you get this letter.

To answer your question, I moved to Chicago for several reasons. First, and most practically, it was the closest big city.

Second, I came to Chicago a few times during college on weekend trips with friends, and I adored it. I loved how it was a giant city but also still had a Midwestern feel. My family went to New York City to celebrate Shannon’s and my high school graduation, and while it was exciting, it didn’t quite feel like a place I could call home.

Third, I’ve felt a connection to this city most of my life because of you. I didn’t think I’d ever run into you here, and I had no plans to look you up, for obvious reasons. But even in the days after I moved here before I ran into you, I thought about you a time or three. It felt like home because it was your home, even if I never saw you.

If someone knocked on my car window and demand I speak to them, I wouldn’t be able to. Why? Because I can’t breathe.

I know this is against the rules, too, but I can’t help it. Shannon is coming to town the weekend after next, and he’s demanding to meet you. So we need to figure out how to make that happen. Maybe we can all go out to dinner with Wendy on Saturday night. I want to make it as casual as possible.

I’m out of room, so here’s my next question for you. Have you ever considered not working for your family’s firm? I expect your answer to encompass all my potential follow-up questions, too. Don’t give me a yes-or-no answer!

Yours,

Leslie

After reading the letter again, I carefully replace it in the envelope and put it back into my coat pocket, right over my heart. I feel like I’m living in one of the silly romance movies my sisters force me to watch with them, and I don’t know how it happened. But I’m thankful it did.

While I’m driving back to the office, it hits me that Leslie told Shannon the truth about me. And it sounds like he took the news well, if he wants to meet me. Unless his plan is to kill me, though I don’t know why he would, since I wasn’t the one who pulled off the childhood deception of the century.

I feel giddy—giddy, as if that’s a thing I’ve ever felt—at the thought of spending non-work-related time with Leslie again.

* * *

I’m reading Leslie’s letter a fourth time when Randall invades my office soon after I return. I slide it off the desk onto my lap, but I’m not fast enough.

My brother grins at me from his chair. “I’m guessing that’s not from a client?”

“It’s from someone at Carter-Jenkins,” I say defensively.

“Oh, they’ve started using purple stationery over there?”

“It’s a new policy. George recently invested in a purple paper company.”

“I love it when you’re funny. You should try it more often.”

I ignore his comment. “What do you want?”

“So about Melissa …”

He talked about her nonstop yesterday morning before, during, and after tennis. I got tired of hearing her name.

“Yes?” I refrain from rolling my eyes.

“You don’t want to date her for real, right?”

“Absolutely not.” I cock my head at him. “Where are you going with this?”

“What if I take her out this weekend, but we tell our parents she’s with you?”

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