Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
By the time we finish, I’m freezing, and my cheeks sting from the wind. They also ache from me smiling so much. “Is it too soon to say I told you so?” He teases me once we climb off in front of the rental office.
“Okay, whatever,” I grumble while he laughs. “I guess you were right. That was a blast.”
He jerks a thumb in the direction we came from. “Do you want to go again? You could drive this time.”
“I don’t know if I can handle much more of that right now, but definitely again before we leave. What I could really go for is some lunch.”
“That can be arranged.” Once we’ve returned the snowmobile, we walk back up to the lodge hand in hand, trying to decide where to grab something to eat after changing out of our gear.
Maybe he doesn’t notice, but I do. All the kids running around with their families, throwing snowballs at each other, asking if they can get hot chocolate or go ice skating. Is it morbid of me to think about my mom at a time like this? And no matter what, I can’t stop thinking about her that way. She’s still my mom, even if Charlotte is my actual birth mother. I’ve called her Mom for too long now.
She was a good mom. She showed the same patience these parents display toward their rambunctious kids. She was loving and nurturing. Sure, there were times when she seemed a little wrapped up in herself, but she took care of me like I was her own child. She didn’t have to do that. And she never once made me feel anything less than loved. I would never have guessed she wasn’t the one who gave birth to me.
It’s so hard remembering that when comparing her to the woman I saw at the store. What if she was glad to be rid of me? Like now, she can finally start living her life without me hanging around her neck.
I need to stop torturing myself. And maybe I need to forgive her a little bit while I’m at it. I wonder if I could ask the front desk crew to dial up her room so we can talk things out. What if seeing her here is a gift, like my chance at closure? I don’t want to waste it.
When we reach the suite, an envelope lies on the floor in front of the door, like somebody slid it underneath. Quinton picks it up and examines it before handing it to me. “It’s got your name on it.”
Yes, and I know that handwriting. It’s the big, swoopy letters she always uses. “It’s from her.”
“You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to. She’s hurt you enough, and the thought of her doing it again makes me murderous.”
I gave him a shaky laugh, still staring down at the envelope. “Like the curiosity wouldn’t kill me.” Even my legs are a little shaky, so I sit on the sofa before opening the envelope and pulling out a folded piece of paper with the name of the lodge embossed along the top.
Aspen – I understand why you wouldn’t want to see me or hear anything I have to say, but I can’t leave things like this without at least making sure you know a few things. First, I was telling the truth when I told Quinton yesterday that I left without telling you as a way of trying to protect you. You didn’t need me around when there were so many questions about what I knew and whether I played a part in what Clyde did. We discussed it, the two of us, and decided it would be for the best if I removed myself from your life. But it wasn’t easy. I need you to know it wasn’t easy.
Quinton sits next to me and closes a hand over my knee but doesn’t say anything. Knowing he’s right next to me gives me the strength to keep reading despite the tears in my eyes.
I know I was never the perfect mother, but please don’t think that had anything to do with how I felt about you. I have loved you your entire life—not a day has gone by that I haven’t. And even though we can’t be together now, I had to make sure there was a mother figure in your life once I was no longer part of it. That was why I got in contact with Charlotte and told her where she could find you.
I cover my mouth but can’t stifle the gasp. “Oh my god. I always wondered what made Charlotte come looking for me. It was her. She told Charlotte where I was.”
“She did that for you,” Quinton murmurs. “I’m sure that couldn’t have been easy, either.” This is a big change from the way he usually talks about her.