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his own and coming to sit next to her.
    He kissed her head and they sat side by side enjoying
each other's company over breakfast. As they ate Christie
remembered the letter.
    “Can I read the letter now?” she asked him.
    “After it caused so much trouble I’m wondering if it
might be better to simply destroy it.”
    “I would really like to read it.” She watched his
face, sure he blushed even under that tanned skin.
    “But, if you don’t want me too, I’ll understand.”
    “It’s just that when I wrote it I never thought I
would be sat with you when you read it.”
    She tried to hide her disappointment. “OK. No
problem.” She scooped up some egg and ate it. “These are great
eggs,” she said, trying to change the subject.
    “Thanks, when you’ve lived on your own as long as I
have you learn to cook.” He ate his breakfast too.
    They chatted about little things, and avoided the
subject of the letter, but it hung over them.
    “Right,” said Christie, after she had finished. “I
need a shower.”
    With that she disappeared into the bathroom leaving
Marcus happily washing up. It felt good to feel the water cascading
over her body; she washed her hair too, feeling much better by the
time she had finished.
    With a towel wrapped around her body, and one around
her hair, she went back to the bedroom trying to decide if it was
worth getting dressed. She hoped Marcus had some ideas that
involved them both being naked. When she sat down on the bed to dry
her hair she noticed a handwritten note.
    Her heart sank, panic washed over her, he had left
because she had tried to pressure him into letting her read the
letter. Reaching for the note she could hardly bear to read it, but
when she picked it up the letter was under it.
    The note simply said, “I’m sorry, I guess I’m still
not good at letting my feelings be known. So I have left the letter
for you to read, take your time.
    Marcus.”
    With trembling hands she picked up the letter and
opened it carefully. She smiled at his familiar handwriting, having
forgotten how much she had missed reading it. Then she began to
read.
    “To my dearest, Christie,
    I have struggled to find the words to tell you how
much you have come to mean to me. Your letters have made my time
here easier. Your warmth and humour has been like a shining beacon
of hope, hope that there is a life for me filled with something I
have never truly experienced before. Love.
    As I have told you my childhood was not easy, and it
has left me reserved where relationships are concerned. Yet through
writing to you I have learned more about myself, particularly my
emotions, than I could ever have hoped.
    My father always told me that emotions make you weak
and vulnerable, I believe you have shown me they can also make you
stronger.
    I know you have had a rough time too, with the death
of your parents, so I live with the hope that we can find,
together, the love that we both miss. I want to be with you, to
make a family with you. I know it sounds stupid, and I pray I don’t
frighten you away with these words. Forgive me if they are not
appropriate, but I live with the hope you feel the same way.
    So I am asking you, if you feel the same way, to meet
me when I return home. There is no pressure, but please at least
give us a chance. I am willing to take things as slow as you need,
after all we have forever.
    Yours forever,
    Marcus”
    It was shorter than his usual letters but said
everything she needed to hear. She felt exactly the same way, even
though she knew it was crazy, but isn't that what love was supposed
to be. Crazy.
    Christie reread the letter, and thought she should
write him a reply, as she always had, but then she realised they
had passed that point. The letters had made it easy for them to say
things neither of them ever had the courage to say in person, now
it was time for them to take things further.
    If they truly were going to spend the rest of their
lives together and start a family,