I know it happens, so I’m strangely grateful that the only things I have had to deal with this last month have been stares and the invasion of privacy by being filmed and whatnot.

He grabs an extra chair, setting it next to his, and motions for me to sit. “There’s been some explicitly violent letters, but luckily it has never gone further than that.”

I wince at the thought. “Still not nice, though.”

“No, it isn’t. But look at Sandra Bullock and that time she had to call the police because a stalker was inside her house. How terrified she must have been.”

I remember hearing something about that. How she had to barricade herself and her infant in a room.

“Yes, it must have been terrifying.”

Pulling out some letters, he splays a few out on the desk and picks one up. I do the same.

“Here,” he says, offering me a letter opener. “These will help save your fingers from paper cuts.”

“Perish the thought,” I sass back.

“Hey, those things are nasty.”

“I guess I can’t disagree with that. They sting like a bitch.”

His eyes lock on mine and we have a moment where all we can do is smile like lovesick puppies.

Is this what it feels like? That word scrambles around in my head constantly lately.

Love.

Something I thought I understood fully but until now, I had barely scratched the surface. I love my mother and my friends, but that love is different. This kind of love is feral and awakening; the kind of love that has your head spinning and your toes curling. Spending all this time with solely one man these last few weeks has taught me that I had barely lived until now. I got up early in the morning, went to work, came home, ate, went to bed. Then the cycle repeated the next day. I considered that living. Not only has Eli taught me that falling in love can be so easy, simple, and joyful, he’s also taught me that there’s so much more to this world then I ever could imagine. I have gone from being a barista to signing autographs, travelling the country on a private jet, and doing photoshoots by the poolside of an LA mansion. I still can’t wrap my head around it all.

I watch as Eli reaches in the bag for one of the letters and begins reading; I watch the cute little crinkle between his eyes as he concentrates on reading. My grin is wide as I pull mine out, a letter from one Tracey Palmer from Illinois.

“This is nice,” I begin, resting an elbow on my crossed leg as I hold the letter in the air to start reading. “Dear Eli, I think you’re an amazing man and incredible actor. I would love to meet you one day so I can lick your…” Saliva catches in my throat when I read the next word. “Err… never mind.” I place the letter down like it’s dirty, causing Eli to laugh back at me. “I don’t think it’s so nice now.”

“You’re so adorable, you know that?” Eli says, and I tilt my head to one side in question. “I genuinely mean that. You have a pure heart and it’s so refreshing to see. I have never met anyone like you.”

That statement saddens me in a way. I thought a lot of people were like me. Having said that, I have come to learn in this last month that people can be hurtful, narcissistic, and downright rude when they want to be.

“I think you’ve just been hanging around with the wrong people all your life.”

He takes in what I’m saying as I grab another letter, hoping it’s a lot nicer than the last one.

“I guess you’re right. I must change that.”

I flit my eyes to Eli, but he’s already concentrating on writing back to the letter he read moments ago. I use that time to read through some more letters. Some are really sweet, wishing him the best in all his endeavors, but others, unfortunately, are much like Tracey Palmer’s letter. Thankfully, I don’t come across any threatening letters, but I guess Eli’s agent would have dealt with those, like he said.

One by one, I read through each letter, placing the nice ones in a pile for Eli to answer. We do this for a good three hours before the letters run out and an exhausted sigh leaves Eli’s lips.

“I always feel like I’ve achieved something after this. It’s almost cathartic.”

I smile because that’s Eli all over.

“You know, I wish I had written to you years ago, but my hero worship of you never transpired into stalking skills, though. I was too busy studying and trying to keep my dad’s café afloat.”

Eli offers me a sad, sympathetic smile before taking in a breath. “I wish you had written to me too, but I’m guessing it wasn’t meant to be back then. Besides, you’re so young. I got married when you were just eighteen.”

“You were only twenty-five when you married.”

Eli turns his lip up in agreement. “Yes, far too young and impressionable at that age. I have certainly learnt that lesson along the way. I don’t relish the thought of being divorced at the age of twenty-nine, and I know it sounds horrible to say this, but I wish I had never decided on that trip to Vegas that time when I met Kendra.”

Tags: Jaimie Roberts Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net