Page 14 of First Kissmas
I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I had a dream about you last night. We were sitting together somewhere I didn’t recognize—not Mudsbury or Fairhope. Just talking and laughing like we had all the time in the world. It felt so real that when I woke up, for a moment I thought I could still hear your voice.
Write again when you can. Your letters are the brightest part of my week.
–Ryder
Dear Ryder,
That’s so sweet that you put my photo on your workbench. It makes me smile thinking of my little sunrise keeping you company while you work. I’m still learning how to use this old camera—mostly just pointing and clicking and hoping for the best! But I managed to catch a few nice moments I wanted to share: the harbor at sunset when all the fishing boats were coming in (the colors that evening were incredible), and the town Christmas tree being taken down (a little bittersweet, but beautiful with all the decorations sparkling one last time).
I’m also sending something else. A photo of me. Just a simple selfie I took by my window. I debated for ages whether to include it, but I thought...well, maybe you’d like to have it.
Life at the diner is settling into a nice rhythm. I’ve memorized how all our regulars like their eggs, and I’m even starting to remember orders without writing everything down. Mr. Carson, who comes in every morning at seven o’clock sharp,says I make the best coffee in town, though I’m pretty sure he tells that to all the waitresses. Still, it made my day.
You asked about my wildest dreams. Yes, they definitely include traveling—I want to see everything I can, especially the ocean in different parts of the world. And someday, I’d love to have my own house. Something small but cozy, with a garden maybe. There’s more to my wildest dreams than just that, but I think that’s all I should say right now.
Um, you know what? I’ve dreamed about you, too. More than once. Those dreams make me miss you even more. Is that silly? To miss someone this much when we only knew each other for such a short time?
It’s my day off today, and I’m planning to explore that used bookstore I keep walking past on my way to work. Then maybe a walk along the harbor if the weather holds. The gulls are particularly noisy this morning. I think that means rain is coming.
Thinking of you,
Courtney
Courtney,
I can’t write another careful, measured letter pretending I don’t feel what I feel. Ever since that kiss we shared at the inn, I’ve been holding back, trying to be noble about it. Telling myself I shouldn’t complicate your life when you’re working so hard to build something new. Convincing myself that I’m too old foryou, that you deserve someone younger and more available to you, someone who doesn’t live alone on a mountain.
But seeing that photo of you by your window...Christ. I’ve stared at it more times than I can count. You look so beautiful, so full of life. I’ve dreamed about you every single night since I got your letter. I wake up reaching for you, and the emptiness beside me makes me ache.
I’m crazy about you, Courtney. You’ve captured every part of me in a way that terrifies and thrills me. I think about you constantly, wondering what you’re doing, imagining what it would be like to hear your laugh in person again, to hold you like I did that night. I catch myself doing everything with thoughts of you—cooking meals I think you’d enjoy, designing pieces for a home we’d share, storing away little moments I wish I could tell you about.
I know I’m taking a risk writing this. Maybe I’m ruining everything. But I’ve gotten to a point where holding these words back feels impossible. Where every letter I try to write turns into this confession instead.
I have these wild fantasies I can’t shake—cooking dinner with you in my kitchen, showing you my favorite spots on the mountain, waking up with your gorgeous curves pressed against me. They’re impossible dreams, I know. You’re building your own life there, as you should. The last thing I want is to distract you from that.
But I needed you to know. Even if you never write back. Even if this ruins everything. I needed you to know that you’ve completely undone me.
God, I miss you.
–Ryder
Ryder,
Come to me. I’m tired of dreaming. I want us to make this real.
Yours and yours alone,
Courtney
7
RYDER
The coastal highway curves ahead as I approach Fairhope, the last mile between us shrinking by the second. Courtney’s letter rests in my pocket, where I’ve kept it since it arrived.Come to me. I’m tired of dreaming. Those words made my hands shake when I first read them, and instantly convinced me to drop everything and drive straight to her.
Through my open window, salt air mingles with the scent of early spring growth. My body thrums with anticipation, knowing she’s so close now. The town unfolds before me—weathered storefronts, boats bobbing in the harbor, streets lined with trees just starting to bud.
When I pull up outside the diner, my heart thunders against my ribs. Through the front window, I spot Courtney moving between tables. She balances multiple plates gracefully, smiling brightly as she chats with customers. My girl is radiating with confidence, and my chest warms at the sight.