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He frowns. “I don’t know. I guess it would depend on what it was. Like if it was something you needed to know or not.”
My heart melting, I stroke the hair back from his brow. “Exactly. It’s a super hard question. Long story short—I have a sore spot where Lucas is concerned, and apparently… well, apparently, he wrote me a lot of letters many years ago. Gramps and Grams hid them from me because they were scared they would hurt me.”
His eyes widen. “No way. No wonder you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad anymore,” I say gently. “I know they were trying to protect me. I was really shocked in the moment, though, and?—”
“Surprises are hard for you because of Dad.”
Tears prick my eyes. “Pretty much.”
“Sorry, but here’s another surprise.”
My teenager—officially taller than me—wraps me in a hug. Not a two-second one, either. It lasts for a solid minute.
A minute I’ll hold onto for a lifetime.
41
I read the last letter first. It’s not thick—a single page dated six years ago, a week before Damien’s seventh birthday.
Dear Celeste,
I almost took the painting down today—the one you made me. It’s been hanging over my bed ever since. But I couldn’t do it. Even if we never speak again, that painting makes me feel close to you.
I don’t know why I’m even writing this. By this point, I know you’re not reading these letters.
I’m actually kind of glad you aren’t. For the record, I’m not mad at your parents. They did the right thing. Nothing good would have come from you reading those first ones, that’s for sure.
I’m sorry for everything, Peapod. I miss you. I’ll always miss you. I wish I could have been worthy of you. My only remaining hope is that you’re loved and happy.
Lucas
Feeling numb inside and out, I tuck the paper back into its envelope, then shuffle through to the first one. Another thin envelope. Adrenaline courses through me as I see the date. My dad was right, it was two and a half months before I married Jeremy.
My heart pounds a staccato rhythm in my ears as I rip it open and pull out the sheet.
Peapod,
You blocked my number, didn’t you? We both know why. I don’t blame you. But I’m still going to say what you don’t want to hear. What you know is true.
Don’t do it.
Don’t marry him.
It’s me.
It’s always been me.
I know I don’t deserve you, but I want you anyway. I’m a shit person for doing this. I love Jeremy, but I’m in love with you. It feels like I’ve been in love with you my whole life.
I know you love him, but you love me, too. I know it. I felt it. And it’s different for us. We’re meant to be. Can’t you feel it?
Call me. I’ll come get you. Live with me in Seattle while I finish school. Or fuck it—we can go anywhere you want. I have some money saved up.
Anywhere in the world, Peapod. Please.
Love,
