Chapter 286 Chapter 286
Chapter 286 Chapter 286
Elliot
“Your paintings have arrived, Mr. Miles,” Andrew says from the door.
I look up from my computer.
“What?”
“Your Harriet collection has arrived out of storage. I know how much you missed it.”
I run my hand through my hair in disgust.
“Oh.” I pause.
I don’t want to be anywhere near those paintings; I left Kate for those.
All they do is remind me of what I no longer have.
My girl.
“Umm.” I pause as I try to articulate my answer. “My apologies, Andrew, can you have them delivered to my apartment in London, please?”
Andrew’s face falls.
“But—”
“But nothing,” I cut him off. “I don’t want them in this house.”
He frowns as he stares at me.
“That is all, Andrew,” I snap, dismissing him.
“Very well, sir.”
I inhale a shaky breath and go back to my computer.
This is fucked.
Kate
I walk up the road to my house and see a car pulled up outside. I frown and, as I get closer, I see it’s a mail delivery van.
“Can I help you?” I ask the driver.
“Yes, I’m looking for a Pinkie Leroo. Does she live here?”
My heart skips a beat; he knows where I am.
Is he here?
My eyes flick around suspiciously.
“What do you have for her?” I ask.
“A letter.”
He holds up a red envelope, and I can see Elliot’s handwriting on the front of it.
Oh . . .
“Yes, I’m Pinkie,” I reply.
“Can I get you to sign here? It’s certified.”
“Sure.”
Damn control freak wants to make sure I got it.
I sign for it, and he hands it over.
“Bye, Pinkie,” he says as he gets into his car.
“Thanks. Bye.”
I look at the letter in my hand.
Miss Pinkie Leroo
98 Grosvenor Street
Mayweather, Oahu
I turn it over and look at the back for the sender.
Edgar Moffatt
Garbologist Extraordinaire
Enchanted Kingdom
I smirk.
Garbologist extraordinaire . . . idiot.
I walk back inside and put the envelope on the countertop.
I’m not reading it.
It’s 11 p.m. when I walk in the door, and I go straight to the envelope and pick it up. Work was so busy tonight, and I was torturing myself the entire shift wondering what this says.
How does he know where I am?
I pick up the envelope and stare at it.
What does he want?
There’s only one way to find out.
Fuck it.
I tear open the envelope.
My dearest Pinkie,
In light of my inability to call you, and not wanting to stalk you, serial-killer style, I have decided to go old school and write you a letter.
To receive a total package experience, please spray this letter with the spray that is enclosed in the envelope.
I frown.
What the hell?
I turn the envelope upside down, and a tiny spray bottle falls out onto the countertop.
I pick it up and read the little label.
Elliot Miles—Love Potion.
I roll my lips to suppress my smile, hold it to my nose, and close my eyes as a flood of memories runs through me.
It’s Elliot’s aftershave.
Hmmm.
I read on.
I’m writing to you with the greatest of news. You are to be a GG, also known as a Goat Grandma.
I put my hand over my mouth and burst out laughing.
What the hell?
The veterinarian has just left, and he has confirmed my suspicions. Gretel, your goat, is pregnant. The expected arrival date is in 40 days, and I can’t wait.
Finally, some good news. I hope you are well?
I hope you know how much of my strength it’s taking to not come to you.
Please know how much you are missed.
Forever yours,
Elliot ox
Short and sweet.
My heart swells, and I bite my lip.
I pick up the tiny spray bottle and hold it to my nose . . . smells like heaven.
Elliot Miles.
I read the letter again . . . and again, and then I do as he asks.
I spray the letter with his cologne.
And with a big smile on my face, and the scent of Elliot Miles swimming around me, I read it again.
\---
I smile as I mix the paint in my palette; who knew I would love this so much?
It’s taken me back to a time when I was happy and carefree . . . I also have to admit, Elliot’s letter yesterday has lifted my spirits.
He gets it.
He could have come here and talked me around and dragged me home . . . but he’s letting me work this out for myself.
I hear a car pull up, and I go and look out of the window.
It’s the van.
I smile.
I open the door in a rush to see the delivery driver get out of his van with another red envelope.
“Pinkie?” he calls.
“That’s me.”
I beam.
“Two letters in two days, someone’s getting spoilt. Sign here, please.”
I sign with a smile on my face.
“What was your name?” I ask.
“Richard.”
“Thanks, Richard.”
I take my letter and breeze up my steps and, once inside, I tear it open.
Just like the last letter, I tip the envelope up, and the little bottle falls out.
I read the label and giggle.
Elliot Miles—Love Potion.
My dearest Pinkie,
In light of my inability to call you, and not wanting to stalk you, serial-killer style, I have decided to go old school and write you a letter.
To receive a total package experience, please spray this letter with the spray that is enclosed in the envelope.
In light of your various fetishes, I will oblige you.
Enclosed is a picture for your personal spank bank. Use it willingly and often.
I frown.
What?
I search in the envelope and, inside, there’s a photograph wrapped in white paper.
I tear it open and laugh.
It’s a picture of Elliot’s bare feet, crossed at the ankles and resting up on an ottoman. He’s sitting on his deck with the lake and his beautiful Enchanted rolling green hills in the background.
There’s a glass of Scotch on the side table, and he’s wearing grey sweatpants.
I frown as I stare at it.
Maybe he’s onto something.
This picture makes me want to be there.
I keep reading.
I hope you are well. My days are long, my nights are longer. You are missed, my love.
Forever yours, Elliot.
xo
P.S. Have you started knitting collars for your grandkids yet?
Apparently, twins are common. I’m not nervous at all.
I smile as my eyes linger on the letter; I pick up the little bottle and spray the paper.
I hold it to my nose and inhale deeply, and Elliot Miles in all his glory swims around me.
These quirky little letters that are so him mean a lot.
I smile.
It’s a good day.