Free You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me by Sarra Manning Page B

because I’m not entirely sure I could do that.’
    William sighed. ‘Oh Neevy, what am I going to do with you? Write them a letter … you do write beautiful, eloquent letters.’ He sighed again. ‘It’s always lovely to see a blue airmail envelope waiting for me in my mailbox.’
    Neve couldn’t help sighing too, though her sigh was the sigh of pure longing. ‘That’s such a nice thing to say,’ she said in a voice that was verging on a simper. ‘And such good advice. I’ll write this person a letter and then I might even be able to sleep tonight without worrying about it.’
    They shared a few more pleasantries about the weather and how Neve would absolutely go to the British Library at the earliest opportunity, then William was ringing off and Neve was left to clutch her head in her hands for entirely different reasons.
    She’d let Max touch her in ways and places that only belonged to William. William would never have tried taking those kinds of liberties with a woman he’d only just met. Neve suddenly remembered how Max had kissed her and asked to come home with her when he didn’t even know her name. He was a cad and he was probably moving in on another victim as Neve sat in her kitchen and brooded.
    Neve tiptoed to the lounge, sat down at her desk, opened her top drawer and selected a sheet of Basildon Bond. Then she pulled out her best fountain pen, because if she was going to write a letter, then she was going to do it properly. Besides, it was bad manners to type personal correspondence. She prevaricated a while about putting her address in the top right-hand corner, but Max already knew where she lived and she couldn’t write a letter without putting her address in the top right-hand corner – that wasn’t the way she rolled. That done, she could get down to the real business in hand:
Dear Max
I just wanted to apologise for my behaviour the night that we met. It was completely out of character and something that I sincerely regret. Not least, because Celia has told me that you were rather upset about what transpired .
I’m not making excuses, but in my defence I had had rather a lot to drink and I’m not used to alcohol. It lowered my inhibitions and coloured my judgement, and I found myself acting in a way that has left me feeling deeply ashamed .
This is very hard for me to write but I feel that I owe you an honest explanation for my actions. When you asked me if I was recovering from a love affair gone awry, you couldn’t have been more wrong. I’ve never been in a relationship or even been on a date, which I know is very unusual for a woman my age, but you see I am deeply in love with a man who’s been out of the country for the last three years .
During this time, I’ve made several huge lifestyle changes, one of which is losing a considerable amount of weight. Not because of William (that’s his name), but I must admit that his absence has been a motivation in wanting to transform myself for his return .
I had this foolish idea that as part of my journey of self-discovery, I needed to embark on some interaction with the opposite sex. Nothing too onerous to start with: some light flirtation, a few dates and then, hopefully a short-lived affair that would ease my passage into this new world. A pancake relationship, if you will, so that when William comes back from overseas, I’ll have gained some experience and insight into what makes a relationship work and won’t make any mistakes. I would hate it if our life together were ruined before it ever really began because of my nerves and my ignorance in matters of the heart .
But last night, as I’ve said, I had too much to drink and I was so flattered (and also confused) by your attentions, that everything became derailed. It suddenly seemed terribly important that I get the sex part of my plan out of the way, but my inexperience and my issues with my body overcame the alcohol and well, you know the rest .
I can’t stress enough that