The Casanova by T L Swan

KATE

I walk up the road to my house and see a car pulled up outside. I frown and, as I get closer, I see it’s a mail delivery van.

“Can I help you?” I ask the driver.

“Yes, I’m looking for a Pinkie Leroo, does she live here?”

My heart skips a beat; he knows where I am.

Is he here? My eyes flick around suspiciously. “What do you have for her?” I ask.

“A letter.” He holds up a red envelope and I can see Elliot’s handwriting on the front of it.

Oh . . .

“Yes, I’m Pinkie,” I reply.

“Can I get you to sign here? It’s certified.”

“Sure.” Damn control freak wants to make sure I got it. I sign for it and he hands it over.

“Bye Pinkie,” he says as he gets into his car.

“Thanks. Bye.”

I look at the letter in my hand.

Miss Pinkie Leroo

98 Grosvenor Street

Mayweather, Oahu.

I turn it over and look at the back for the sender.

Edgar Moffatt

Garbologist Extraordinaire

Enchanted Kingdom

I smirk. Garbologist extraordinaire . . . idiot.

I walk back inside and put the envelope on the countertop.

I’m not reading it.

It’s 11 p.m. when I walk in the door and I go straight to the envelope and pick it up. Work was so busy tonight and I was torturing myself the entire shift wondering what this says.

How does he know where I am?

I pick up the envelope and stare at it. What does he want? There’s only one way to find out.

Fuck it.

I tear open the envelope.

My dearest Pinkie,

In light of my inability to call you, and not wanting to stalk you, serial-killer style, I have decided to go old school and write you a letter.

To receive a total package experience, please spray this letter with the spray that is enclosed in the envelope.

I frown: what the hell?

I turn the envelope upside down and a tiny spray bottle falls out onto the countertop.

I pick it up and read the little label.

Elliot Miles—Love Potion.

I roll my lips to suppress my smile, hold it to my nose, and close my eyes as a flood of memories runs through me. It’s Elliot’s aftershave.

Hmmm.

I read on.

I’m writing to you with the greatest of news, you are to be a GG, also known as a Goat Grandma.

I put my hand over my mouth and burst out laughing. What the hell?

The veterinarian has just left and he has confirmed my suspicions. Gretel your goat is pregnant. The expected arrival date is in 40 days, and I can’t wait.

Finally, some good news.

I hope you are well?

I hope you know how much of my strength it’s taking to not come to you.

Please know how much you are missed.

Forever yours,

Elliot

ox

Short and sweet. My heart swells and I bite my lip.

I pick up the tiny spray bottle and hold it to my nose . . . smells like heaven.

Elliot Miles.

I read the letter again . . . and again, and then I do as he asks.

I spray the letter with his cologne.

And with a big smile on my face, and the scent of Elliot Miles swimming around me, I read it again.