𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 ; 𝟷𝟹 ; 𝙰𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗?

𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝙻𝚊𝚠𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 ; 𝟷𝟹 ; 𝙰𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗?

Dear, Lawrence December 1, 1887

I fell in love with you that night.
I'm sorry I haven't written in a while I've just been a little confused with myself. Not only have I been convincing myself that I don't love you, I've also been wondering who the man you wish to marry is if it's not koremen.
And I hope... I hope day and night that fate will bring me back to you.
I held onto you that night while you slept, thinking and wondering when I should wake you up. I thought a lot. And almost all of it was about you. I cant stop thinking about you honestly.
I wish I didn't feel like this. I wish I went back to pretending I like Presley or meeting new girls on the streets of New York City while on a trip. All because I know you don't love me back and never will. I wish I could go back to when we were younger and redo everything so that I could end up with you. But again, I'm in fate's hands now.

Love, Tate

𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸𝙸

I dust off my apron and sign, taking my hair out of its bun. I just finished making twelve sheets of cookies and frosting them all so that the kids that come in can have them for free on Fridays instead the usual nickel. They always love me because of it, but I pay for them all so it's not a waste. The ones the kids don't take sell anyway.
The guys across the room made a lot of bread today, and though they used to not like me I think I'm growing on Winsley. Winsley had blonde fluffy hair that was always painted with some type of oil from his fathers hands. He told me his dad always comes home from work and ruffles his hair.
Winsley was quite nice....
He was poor but I don't think I really mind anymore, not many men of my class would accept me anymore.
Winsley could be good for me, especially since Tate will never see me the same.
I laugh as I fold my apron and put it in a drawer to be washed later, "are you sure you need to keep working? You've slaved away at bread for so long and that's the most boring one!"
"I'm on bread duty I'm sorry Lawrence!" He says, with a sigh. He follows me sadly while I make my last chore to put some cookies on display for the kids to know about.
"How sad... well when the kids come in tell them I miss them okay?"
"Of course I will." He says and I smile, leaning in and kissing his cheeks. The bell on the door jingles.
"Well I must head home, goodbye Winsley-"
A hand wraps around my waist, and I turn around and see Tate standing behind me, his hair waved perfectly.
"Who is this?" He asks lightly, his jaw clenched and his hands grabbing roughly onto my waist. He looks down at me for a second and furrows his eyebrows, as if looking at me with longing or disappointment.
I'd assume it's the ladder.
He looks back up and Winsley is staring at him with awe, "oh my... are you Tatum Tillings? My mum always used to tell me that I could end up like you, you built yourself up and Im so envious-"
"Thank you...?" He starts, but quirks a brow to ask for his name.
"Oh pardon me! My name is Winsley, it's a pleasure to meet you Mister Tillings-"
"no no the pleasure is mine, how long have you known Lawrence?"
"Oh well I went to school with her a while back but we never really talked. I've only started talking to her recently when she helped me and my twin William with the bread."
"It must be great. Well we must go, the servants are making dinner and it's almost heated up perfectly. I've had them make your favorite." He says, putting his trench coat over my shoulders and guiding me out of the bakery.
Winsley mumbles a goodbye but it barely escapes his nervous lips.
I don't think he liked Winsley very much. I cant seem to tell why though. He must just be in a bad mood.
"Why'd you have them make my favorite? They never make it almost nobody else likes it!"
He smirks at his shoes, "I must've just realized you'd appreciate a kind gesture."
I smile, "I always do, Tate." I lean up on my tiptoes and give him a kiss on the cheek, smiling to myself.
"thank you for last night, by the way. A lot has been going on recently and really what I needed was a nap. I've been so tired."
"Oh no, are you sick darling?" He asks lightly. He stops and grabs onto my face, holding my head between his hands and looking at me with concern.
I laugh, "no I'm just... emotionally tired."
He furrows his eyebrows and begins walking with me again, staring down at our hands that graze against each other as we walk.
I cant tell him the truth... well I guess I could but I just.... I cant tell him when he came back here I still liked him, it would be so embarrassing for me. I can't handle another version of him telling me I'm not enough.
I couldn't handle it the first time either.