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LETTER
ELLA
JESSE,
I’m starting to hate you. I never thought I’d say that. But it’s true. I hate you for keeping us apart when you know we belong together. I hate you for keeping secrets from me.
I hate you for giving me the most incredible weekend of my life in New York and making me promise to get over you. That’s like asking me to live without my heart. (I know, I begged for it. I promised you I’d move on. I LIED. I can’t move on.)
But more than anything, I hate the way I still love you. (Maybe that’s a famous line, but it’s true.) How do I fall out of love with you? How is that even possible?
Yours (even if I’m technically not),
Ella
LETTER
JESSE
DEAR ELLA,
I’ve been thinking about New York and what happened between us. What was meant to happen . . . I wanted you so much more than you’ll ever know. Wanted to taste you. Have my mouth all over your sweet spot and make every part of you mine forever.
Ughhh, one day, hopefully soon, I’ll be a real fucking man and express to you that side of me. You know the one. The one no one ever really sees. You deserve that; I shouldn’t be so guarded with you . . .
But I promise you, right now, I’m just trying to keep you safe out of love.
I need to feel you again, this much I know. And I can’t wait for that to happen. At least I hope it happens again. And again.
I spoke with Thatcher, and I told him that my hourglass is running on its last few bits of sand. That I want out of the CIA. Time to move on and start a new chapter before I’m so far down this rabbit hole I see no way out . . .
I don’t want that for me; I don’t want that for us. Believe it or not, I see a future now, and it’s you that’s in it.
Thatcher can be a real asshole sometimes; but I guess it’s not his fault. He holds me in high regard. Unfortunately, he made me sign on for one more year.
One more year away from you, and away from building a life with you, doesn’t sit well with me. But I tell myself I’ve come this far, so, what’s another 365 days?
I asked you to move on, but when I’m done with the Agency, and I find a way to redeem myself . . . I hope you’re still there. You will be, won’t you?
I need you to be there, Ella.
Always yours,
Jesse
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LETTER
JESSE
DEAR ELLA,
Brian. Fucking Brian . . . really? That’s the kind of guy you’re . . . I’m going to lose it. Fuck.
I don’t know what to do. Why in the world did I expect you to wait? Just because you never listen to me on anything . . . this is the one thing you finally did and now you’re . . . dating this guy?
I want to go to you and tell you to dump him. But it’s my fault you started dating him in the first place. I didn’t tell you my plan. How could I? I’m not allowed to tell you I work for the CIA. To tell you that Thatcher made me give him one more year without “issues.” You can guess what “issues” means when it comes to the Agency.
