December 25th, 1990
At home, England
Festive Christmas Day with Florence and her gang, filled with presents and delicious food, including my all-time favourite; Christmas Pudding with Brandy sauce. Oh my!
“Karen love,” Florence uttered, long after the table was cleared. “You must fess up to William.”
“I have a funny feeling he’s going to show up on your doorstep!”
“Don’t be silly, he lives on an island, thousands of miles away from here.”
“I know love, but I just think with him being so keen and reconnecting with you he might make an appearance.”
“He won’t,” I stated.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“Don’t worry, he won’t.”
She gave me a questioning look
“I ehm, I gave him a fake address and number.”
“I know, I know but, ugh, it was all so weird, with Shelby squealing and me panicking about missing the flight and all that. I was completely caught off guard!”
Her look told me she didn’t agree with me.
“You think I should’ve told him the truth?”
She nodded. “I think you owe it to him to at least tell him the truth about the circumstances under which you met. The other stuff is up to you.”
I sighed deeply. “You’re right. I should tell him.”
She smiled. “Can you write to him?”
“Then I think you should spill the beans and make it clear you don’t want to see him again…unless of course you do.”
“I don’t know if I do or not. I’ve been thinking about the fun we had in Antigua but I don’t know if I’m flattered because he made such an effort to find me or because I really liked him.”
She nodded in agreement. “I think starting with the truth is the first step, then see where it goes from there. At least that way when he shows up on your doorstep professing his undying love, he’ll at least know your real name!”
I came home and penned a ten-page letter that I already put in the post.