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It hurts to say, yet it makes me so unbelievably happy to know he's in love with you. Maybe he hasn't said it yet, but I knew when he spoke of you, when he was so angry the last time I called, that he had moved on and was happy with you.
Thank you for making him happy. I almost wish I knew the story of you two, but I'm kind of glad I don't since I do still love him. He was always meant to be the person I fell in love with and loved for all of my life. But I wasn't who he was supposed to love for all of his life.
That's you.
As painful as it is for me, I wanted him to have someone else in his life for the support I know he'll need. When I was first thinking about asking for a break, I kept thinking, if he could've already moved on, then surely it would make it a little easier for him to deal with. That's all I wanted. To make this a little easier for him to handle.
This is where you come in.
He's going to need you because he's finding out that I've died. A month before I asked for the break, I learned I was sick. Sick enough that my parents, my doctors, and I knew without a doubt my future, my life, was limited and I had a countdown clock looming over me. I didn't want Emerson around for my final time. Call me selfish, but I knew I couldn't handle watching him suffering through it. His happiness is what mattered the most to me and I knew that if I let him stay with me, my last memories wouldn't be of his smile and his happiness. If I let him stay, it would take that much longer for him to find it after I was gone.
So, I asked for a break and prayed every day he would find someone to make him happy, someone who could be there for him when he learned the news, someone who could get him through this without it breaking him.
My prayers were answered in the form of you.
Please take care of him and love him as much as he loves you. Being on the receiving end of his love is a never ending high and there's nothing in this world that feels as good. Cherish it. Cherish him. He deserves it. And believe me, he'll return whatever you gi
ve him tenfold. Emerson's an amazing man, but I'm sure you already know that.
I hope I haven't caused problems between you with my calls. I just needed to know he was happy before my time here was up.
And he is.
Thank you,
Kelly
I finish reading just as Emerson falls to his knees next to me. The paper is cackling as it shakes in his hand. His shoulders are shaking and a tortured sob escapes his mouth, ripping my heart to shreds. I kneel next to him, wrapping my arms around his waist, hoping he'll accept my comfort instead of pushing it away.
He doesn't even notice me.
His letter is much longer than mine, but I avoid looking at the words. They aren't for me. His mom has returned to her seat next to her husband and they both look torn up over this.
God, she's dead?
What is this going to do to Emerson? What if he can't recover from this?
The letter falls from his hand. He doesn't pick it up, so I wonder if he dropped it on purpose.
“I'm so sorry,” I whisper.
My voice snaps him out of it. When he glances at me, my heart crumbles. He's heartbroken and I'm not sure what I can do to help. If I can help. He stands, my arms having no choice but to let him go, and he rushes through the house. I grab both of our letters and set them on the coffee table. The backdoor slams as I'm about to go after him.
“Let him have a few moments to himself,” his mother tells me.
That's the last thing I feel like I should do. Ignoring her, I follow him outside. He's hunched over on the swing, looking much like I found him after I caught the tail-end of their second phone call. His hands are in his hair, gripping tightly. He looks up when I'm about a foot away. His eyes are red, his cheeks stained with tears.
Emerson leans back and holds out a hand to me. That one action lets me know that no matter how bad it gets, things will be okay. I take it and he pulls me to sit sideways in his lap, burying his face in my neck as he wraps his arms around my waist. His hold is almost too tight, but I don't say a word. I sit still, stroking his hair at his nape while he cries.
There's too much going on in my head. I don't know what to think about first. That his ex is dead? That she didn't tell him about her illness? That she's positive he's in love with me? Ugh. I slam down all my thoughts and focus on Emerson.
We're outside for about half an hour when he lifts his head. My neck is cold from his tears and the frigid air. I wipe away the tears from his cheeks. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do either. I've never had anyone close to me die before. I'm clueless in these situations.
“I need to see her parents,” his voice cracks.
I nod. Does he want to go alone or does he want me to go with him? I wish I knew what to do as clearly as I knew I needed to follow him out here.
“Come with me?” he asks, his blue eyes plead with me to say yes.
