38. Kai

THIRTY-EIGHT

To write a good love letter, you ought to begin

without knowing what you mean to say,

and to finish without knowing

what you have written.

~ Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Dear Mila,

I want to say

I crumple the paper and throw it in the small trash can full and overflowing with similar unfinished letters. This is such a bad idea. I should just go over there. She's my friend. I can walk up to the door of the inn, knock, and spill everything in my heart.

I lean my head into my hands, rubbing the heels into my eye sockets and sighing loudly.

I want her to have a letter. Call me sentimental, but I want her to be able to hold my words, read them over and over, to save this letter to come back to later, anytime she wants to remember how thoroughly loved she is. And, face it. I want to get this right.

But I don't want to be sitting here wasting time.

Phyllis never did tell me why I needed to act swiftly. And it's already past Noah's bedtime. It's going to be past Mila's if I can't get it together, write my thoughts and feelings on paper and make my way to her soon.

It's official: Love makes a man crazy.

I take a deep breath, exhale, crack my knuckles and start again.

Dear Mila,

This letter is my way of starting from scratch—as if we never faked, as if we were two friends who had grown close, and one day I looked up and saw you—really saw you.

I wouldn't change how we started. I can't remember the exact day I met you. What I do remember is the day you invited me to see the inn. "Mila's Place," you said, "Named after me." And then you blushed just the slightest. And maybe I fell just a little that day. I think I must have. And I've been falling for you ever since. One blush, one smile, one thoughtful act, one burst of laughter, one quiet evening on the porch at a time.

Your friendship has been a lifeline, a sanctuary, and a lighthouse when everything in my life felt choppy. You listened to me when I was spinning out about Kala and Bodhi. And you talked reason to me until you made me see my part in the situation. You always do that. You balance me, softening my hard edges with your kindness and patience.

I wouldn't change how we met or how our friendship developed. But I wish I would have asked you out earlier. I would have taken my time. I'd give you all the space you need to warm up to the idea of something romantic between us, and then I'd give even more time to help Noah warm up too. I believe he would—he will—if we decide to take a chance on us.

If I could reverse time, I would not have faked anything with you. Because what I feel for you is real. You wanted something real, Mila. That's all I have to give you. The real me loving the real you. And I know it's enough. What we have is the most real thing I've ever experienced.

If you'll let me, I will spend every day of our lives showing you, reminding you, that real love is possible. Because it's you and me. And this is real.

And while I hope to say these words to you in person, I need to say them now.

I love you, Mila.

I want to start our relationship the right way, if you give me the chance.

For real this time. - Kai

I reread the letter twice. It's not everything I have to say to her, but it's the heart of it.

I fold it over in thirds and then fold that in half, carefully placing it into my shirt pocket. And then I climb onto my bike and ride to Mila's Place, because my patience isn't long enough for a golf cart tonight. I pedal faster than a delivery guy in New York City, up hills and down, around curves, past coves and into the neighborhood of the North Shore. The waning moon is nearly full overhead and the light ripples across the waves. The stars smatter the sky like a crowd holding up individual lights at a show, cheering me on.

Tonight, she'll know everything.

And then I'll know everything: what we are, or what we never will be.

I park my bike and open the front gate. My heartbeat sounds in my ears, a rapid thrum.

I step toward the door and am about to knock when her voice calls to me from across the porch.

"Kai?"

"Yeah. Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you."

"Is everything okay?"

I have to think about how to answer her. She holds the answer to that question.

"I think it is. I hope it is."

"Can I get you something to drink? I have cobbler too."

I smile. Mila. Always serving others. Constantly thinking of someone outside herself.

"I'm fine for now. I brought you something."

"You did?"

I walk toward her. The light from the moon and the decorative lamppost in the yard cast a yellow-white glow across her face.

"Yeah. It's a letter."

"A letter?"

"I wrote it."

"You wrote me a letter?"

"I did."

She's quiet, and I don't feel like I can add anything beyond what I already poured out on paper, so I reach into my pocket and hand the letter to her. She takes it, our fingertips brushing, tempting me to grasp on to her, to pull her up off the swing and hold her in my arms.

What if I never get to hold her again?

In a few minutes, my fate will be determined.

I'm not sure I'm breathing. The air feels still—full of unanswered questions.

Her fingers gently unfold the letter and then she lays it in her lap, squinting down at it.

"I can't read it in this light." She smiles up at me.

"Oh! Here." I pull out my cell and turn on the flashlight, holding it overhead to illuminate her lap where my letter sits waiting.

"Have a seat, Kai."

I take the opposite corner of the swing, holding the light over her shoulder so she can read my heart on paper.

I watch her face as she takes in each line. I didn't plan on sitting next to her. I don't know what I thought I'd do. Hand the letter over and leave?

I really wasn't thinking. I just knew I had to get everything out in the open and let her know how much she means to me. Tonight. It had to be tonight.

"You remember that day?" Mila looks over at me, a soft smile on her lips.

"I do. I wish I remembered the day we met."

"I remember it."

"You do?"

"Of course. You were the ‘hot new surf instructor' the island was raving about." She puts air quotes around, hot new surf instructor. "I had a few guests that summer who wanted to learn to surf, so I drove them over to Alicante and walked into the shack. It was your first week on the job and the guys who had been running things before you had you wearing flippers everywhere you went and approaching all the customers by saying, ‘Just keep swimmin'.'"

I run my hand down my jaw. "Can we possibly not share that particular story as our first meeting? You know, in years to come, or like ever, with anyone?"

"I think I recall you putting a goldfish in Ben's water during his first week of work, so …"

"We have rites of passage in watersports. What can I say?"

"Just keep swimmin'?"

"Mila …" I fake a warning tone.

She turns back to the letter.

My chest feels like someone pumped it full of helium. She's one third through and she hasn't kicked me off the porch yet.

She gasps softly and covers her mouth. The letter falls out of her hand and flutters to the ground.

"You okay?" I ask.

"Kai? You've been falling for me?"

"I have. I am. I love you, Mila."

"You … love me?" Her eyes are wide. Then she shakes her head in disbelief. "Noah was right."

"Noah? He told you I loved you?"

"Tonight. At bedtime."

I smile. Noah. He's got my back. And I'll always have his.

"I don't want to overwhelm you. But, yes. I do. I'm madly, completely in love with you, Mila. You're all I think about. When I wake in the morning, I walk through my house wondering what you made for breakfast. I picture you serving your guests and getting Noah ready for school. Throughout the day, I reminisce about things you said, your facial expressions, your laughter … our kisses."

Mila looks at me with a softness in her doe eyes. Her eyebrows draw up in the middle of her forehead. She's still here, listening, so I grab this chance to tell her she's everything to me—a chance I hope leads to the rest of our lives together.

"I find reasons to come here when there aren't any. I want to check on you, to make sure you're alright. I know you can manage your life, but I don't want you to have to. I look forward to the times you lean on me for something—a repair, a listening ear, even this whole charade. I want to be there for you."

She's still gazing up at me with that expression of either wonder or shock, I can't quite tell.

"I love you, Mila. And I'll wait. I don't want to push you. If you're not ready—if Noah's not ready—I'll wait. I'll be your friend and I'll wait for you to be ready. If you say you want me, I'll wait for years for you. But I hope we don't have to wait because, honestly, it feels like we've already been waiting too long and I don't want to waste another day we could have together being separated and confused about what we are to one another."

When she looks down at her hands, I think I've lost her. I approached the sea star with too much desire and overwhelming emotion and she's about to shut down and retreat.

But then, she looks up at me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I love you too, Kai."

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? Did you say …?"

"I said, I love you. I didn't expect this. I even fought it—not because of you, but because of my past. And because of Noah. But things change. A woman can change her mind, and apparently, her heart."

I am frozen in place, afraid this fragile confession will shatter into a thousand shards if I move toward Mila or even say another word.

She loves me?

She loves me!

As if she knows I need the reassurance, she says it again. "I love you, Kai."

I reach my hand across the space between us and cup her jaw, running my thumb along her cheek. "I want to kiss you, Mila."

"I want you to kiss me. Please, Kai. Kiss me."

She doesn't have to ask me twice.

I lean in and she bends toward me. This kiss isn't to fend off Brad or Aima. It's not to convince someone we're dating. This kiss isn't practice. When our mouths align and her lips brush across mine, everything in me sparks to life. This kiss is Mila and me, finally expressing our love for one another. I kiss her softly, lingering on her lips with mine. She wraps her arms behind my neck and I pull her closer. The swing moves erratically and we pull apart, laughing.

"We need a do-over," Mila says.

"Definitely."

"We can do better."

"I know we can. We definitely can. Come over here."

Mila shifts so that she's right next to me, and then I take a risk and pull her so she's sitting sideways on my lap, her legs extending out onto the swing. And this time when I lean in, she's right there, tilting her head up, her eyes fluttering shut just before our lips meet. She tugs at my neck, pulling me near and I run my hand down her arm slowly, finding her fingers and entwining them with mine and resting our enjoined hands on her thigh.

I kiss her reverently, savoring the feel of her, listening to everything she's telling me without words. And then our kiss roars to life, like a fire that started slowly, but was licked by the wind causing the flames to spread suddenly.

I need her. And she's telling me she needs me too. Wants me. Loves me. It's all here in this kiss. We're mouths and hands and mingled breath. She's vanilla and cinnamon and warmth and home. All I am yearns for all of her. And she's here, giving and taking, opening for me, saying yes to our connection—yes to us.

I place a final gentle kiss to her lips and then to the tip of her nose, brushing her hair away from her face, letting my forehead drop to hers. Our eyes lock in the dim light of nighttime. She's a vision, staring back at me with hope and contentment etched across the shadows of her features.

"Kai," Mila breathes out my name like a precious secret she's been keeping.

"Hmmm?"

"I didn't even finish reading your letter."

Keeping one hand wrapped around her waist, I bend down. I retrieve the letter from the floorboards of the porch and hand it back to her.

"I wrote it so you could read it whenever you want. Again and again if you need to. I didn't know if you would want me, or if telling you how I feel about you would scare you off."

"I want you. So much. I've never wanted anyone this way."

She reaches up and runs her fingers through my hair. I close my eyes, acutely aware of each spot she gently grazes across on my scalp. I hear the low rumble of contentment rise up from within me.

Mila wants me.

It's a heady drug, finally holding a woman you've been pining away for, and I'm in no hurry to let her go—not tonight or ever.

Mila giggles. "You like that, huh?"

"I do. Everything you do, I like. But especially that."

She does it again.

I wrap my arm around her and pull her in so her head is tucked beneath my chin and she's nestled against my chest. And then I place a kiss on the top of her head.

"You have to set the pace here," I tell her. "And we don't have to talk about anything more tonight. Just know, you're calling the shots."

"I am, am I?" That playful side of her comes out—the one I discovered during Bodhi and Kalaine's bachelor-ette party in the pool. "I like the idea of calling the shots with you."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"I'm trying. I'm pretty rusty, though."

"The last word I'd ever use to describe you is rusty."

Mila sits up just the slightest, my arm still looped behind her, and carefully refolds my letter. "I'm going to read the rest of this tonight—later, in my room, alone."

"It's yours to read whenever you want."

"And. Kai?"

"Yes?"

"I don't need time to think about what we're doing here."

Mila tilts her head so she's gazing in my eyes. The moonlight reflects off her cheeks and lips when she looks up at me.

"I'm yours, Kai. No more pretending."

"Mine." I lean in and kiss Mila. "For real this time."

And the world melts away until it's just the two of us, on the porch of Mila's Place, beginning the rest of our forever together.