Page 85 of Fa-La La-La Land

“How did you all know?” I ask. “I mean…how?”

Grandpa clears his throat. “After that first Christmas, when you asked for another letter from your dad, your mom came to me. We know your tenacity. We knew you might keep asking, and we wanted you to know your dad. So every year, I asked some people—his friends, our family—for help to give you a sense of who he was at your age. Each Christmas felt like the perfect time to give you a piece of that, whether or not you asked for it. But you always did.”

His mouth curves into a reluctant arc, and Granny slips her hand into his for support.

“So every year, someone different?” I’m overcome with the idea of Grandpa, who holds all his emotions so close, doing this for me, being so aware I needed to know my dad so I wouldn’t miss him.

“Not always,” he says. “But a lot of people helped.”

“And this letter?” I turn it over in my hands.

“This one,” Grandpa says softly, “he wrote himself. He told me to save it until the time was right.”

I stare at it, wanting to read it, while also knowing once I do, this part of my life comes to a close. I’ve spent the last decade getting to know my dad through these letters. I don’t want this tradition to end, but I’m also within a few years of reaching an age he never did, and the only way to repay the people who have written these letters is to be the person Dad wanted me to be.

I look back at Grandpa. Tears stream down his cheeks. He’s outlived both his children, and this is the first time I’ve seen him cry.

“Thank you, Grandpa.” I throw my arms around his neck. Slowly, he wraps his arms around me in an awkward embrace. But then his shoulders loosen, and he gives in to the emotion that he’s fought his whole life to keep hidden away. He grips me tighter and sobs softly into my neck.

I hear sniffles around me, then Granny shuffles up and rubs Grandpa’s back until he lets go of me. He quickly wipes his eyes as he steps back, but his hand trembles when he takes Granny’s.

All eyes are on me then, waiting for me to read the letter. I glance at Rhys across from me with Jack and Millie on one side, Mom on the other. With a nod of encouragement from him, I open the envelope. The yellow legal paper is aged and soft at the folds. Carefully, I unfold it. I scan the whole thing first, then go back and read it more carefully.

I laugh. I cry. It’s the meet-cute story Mom’s told me a thousand times, but from Dad’s perspective. The details are the same: love at first sight. Couldn’t wait to see her. Hated the idea of going back to America and never seeing her again.

There’s a finality to his advice in this one, though, and I understand why he told Grandpa to give it to me when the time was right. I push back tears, start at the beginning and read the whole letter to everyone in the room.

I can’t stop the tears when I get to the last paragraph. “Don’t settle for anyone who doesn’t love you the way I love your mom. Don’t settle for someone who isn’t willing to sacrifice everything for you or who doesn’t make you feel safe, known, and adored.”

My eyes can’t help but go to Rhys’s. I hope he knows I’ve found that in him.

“That’s a tall order, following in your dad’s footsteps,” Rhys says, his voice low. “But I got one thing right.”

I smile. “What’s that?”

He walks toward me, looking more nervous being the center of attention here than he did a few hours ago on stage. “I loved you the first time I saw you.”

I arch an eyebrow. “You mean the second time.”

He shakes his head. “First time. I was just too daft to know it.”

And then I’m in hisarms, and with everyone’s eyes on us, we kiss.

And I know a part of my life is ending, but the best part is just beginning.