Tammy wiggles her eyebrows at me like she’s asking me to show her my goodies. And I don’t mean the last batch of baked goods I just pulled out of the oven. “No, they’re private.” I can feel my face warming just talking about the letters. “Oh, my God. Are they dirty?!” Her face lights up like she just struck gold. “No, not really.” They really aren’t dirty at all. Maybe a few innuendoes here and there. One time I did admit to never having been with a man. I seem to be willing to tell him everything about myself, no matter how embarrassing it might be. “Then what’s with the blush?” She grabs her wine off the coffee table and takes a sip, leaning back on the sofa. Tammy, as usual, kind of popped up on me. I usually keep all of Mark’s letters in box in the living room, but I had them all splayed out on the coffee table as I reread each one while drinking a glass of wine.
