Dear Desmond (Love Letters 4)

A home.

Desmond,

I’m at a loss for words.

I’m sitting here, tears streaming down my face at your generosity, your thoughtfulness. I mean, who does this?

Desmond…

Your picture, those knowing eyes, all that thick hair I want to run my fingers through. You look mysterious and heroic all at once. I don’t know whether to hide from you or kiss you. You look like the kind of man a girl could cuddle with in front of the fireplace. The kind a girl could get used to having around.

I wish I were good enough to be that girl.

I wish I were good enough for all that you’ve given me.

The truth is, I don’t deserve any of it. I’ve been nothing but a rotten little shit for years. I don’t blame my father for my mistakes. The good thing about being isolated for 5 months is, I had a lot of time to reflect.

I’m bitter, I’m angry, I’m an emotional mess right now, and with Christmas around the corner, it feels like everything is attempting to box me in. Making me claustrophobic in a way I’m not used to.

I’ve spent the past 3 nights sleeping in your bed, and I have to say, I like it. It smells the way I imagine you do—woodsy with a hint of wild inhibition. I’m not complaining. It’s been a while since I’ve felt comforted in my sleep.

So, thank you, Des.

I know that you said to make myself comfortable. Explore. Do whatever I feel like. Though, I doubt you meant to set up camp in your room and steal your soft baggy shirts. But I’ve done all of that. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.

Last night, I dreamed you came home and held me all night. I was disappointed when I awoke to find myself alone.

We don’t know each other well, but I’d like that to change. You were right when you said there was a connection between us. I want to explore that.

Yours,

North

P.S. I hope you like these pictures as well.

North, in my bed, hiding behind the blanket. Her eyes are full of life. Unlike the first photo I saw of her. The next, she’s laying in my shirt on the couch sprawled out and almost melting into the oversized cushions.

The last one… Damn. She’s standing in the master suite bathroom in nothing but a towel and a look of awe on her face.

The one thing that remains the same in each picture, though? Her smile. Full of life and a sense of peace I felt was missing from her words.

I know I did the right thing by calling my former captain. I wasn’t sure, at first; I honestly thought she would rebuff me and tell me to get lost.

Only two days until Christmas, and I’m sure North thinks I won’t make it. I’m one flight and a quick stop away from being home. Away from holding her in my arms.

I don’t know what…if…we’ll have any chemistry when I get there, but I’m willing to try if she is.

She thinks she’s unworthy. That she doesn’t deserve all the happiness in the world. I aim to show her just how much she should be demanding from her man.

From me.

North may be young in years, but she’s wise in heart. A pure heart full of so much love and understanding that I don’t think she knows exactly what she’s capable of.

Just one more flight, Des.

Snow is falling, piling up like bricks outside, and the poor bellman in the lobby is doing his very best to have an incredible tree from a farm delivered to me. When I left to go shopping for a few decorations yesterday, he suggested I wait on a tree. That he would have one brought to me.

By the time I got home, he had a picture of a beautiful Blue Spruce that stole my breath. I’m not too embarrassed to admit that I had a tear in my eye and let out an incredibly girlish squeal. Within five minutes, he’d been on the phone and bought it for me.