Her voice trails off and her eyes turn glossy.
“I know now, that there's no excuse for my behavior . . . for the way I treated Ian and you . . . I was going through a really hard time and I felt like I had to compete against you to keep the one person I could trust in my life, and now I've ruined everything and I'm all alone.”
I take a cautious step towards her. “You don't have to be . . . your friends still miss you. You should talk to Danielle and Calliope.”
She shakes her head, a tear trailing down her cheek. “Those bridges have burnt down . . . I acted like a bitch towards them and now there's too much damage.”
“Build a new bridge then,” I say, folding my arms across my chest. “Friends fight, we say nasty things to each other, but it doesn't mean we don't love each other and that we can't move forward.”
Sarah nods and wipes her nose. “I don't know what to say to them.”
“Start by telling them you're sorry . . .”
“Good idea,” she says, the corners of her mouth tipping into a slight smile.
I bite my lip and nod.
She reaches inside her bag and pulls out a thin envelope. “Will you give this to Ian for me? I can't bring myself to see him . . . it will just bring up too many painful memories that I'm not ready to face yet.”
“Okay.”
“You can read it,” she says, handing me the envelope. “If you want.”
She turns to leave. “Sarah?”
She glances back at me. “Yes?”
“What does this make us?”
Pain crosses her face, and then slowly she smirks. “I won't act like a bitch towards you and if I see you in public I'll smile and nod politely. Deal?” She asks, sticking her hand for me to shake.
“Okay . . . deal.”
“I really am sorry . . . about everything.”
“Thanks, me too.”
Sarah scrunches her face up but doesn't say anything. Instead, she turns away, leaving me standing outside of my dorm, dazed and confused, holding her letter to Ian.
Thirty minutes later, Ian is sitting on my bed with me. We had plans to watch a Disney movie tonight to celebrate our one month anniversary . . . or as Ian says our four-month anniversary—he said since he never gave up hope of us being together and since neither of us technically broke up with each other over Thanksgiving break our silent break-up doesn't count.
However, when Sarah showed up with apologies and a letter for Ian our plans to celebrate were thrown out the window. Instead, we've been sitting together in my room—even though it's against school rules—reading her letter.
Ian,
I'm not sure if you remember, but right before we started dating my brother, Johnathan, joined the Marines.—you probably don't because you never met him and I had only reconnected with him that summer.
Well, last November his squadron was assigned a classified mission, and he was stationed overseas. Due to the “sensitive” nature of his mission, the government refused to give us any details about his whereabouts.
We didn't know how long he was going to be away or when he was going to return and we had no way to communicate with him. Months passed and we heard nothing. I tried devoting myself to my studies and focusing on new recipes to make, but with each passing day and no word from my brother I found it harder to concentrate.
It felt too surreal like my dad was ripping my brother away from me all over again and I didn't know how to handle things. There were so many times I wanted to open up to you, but I'd get scared and chicken out. I could feel you pulling away from me and that hurt . . . for the longest time you were the one constant thing in my life and now that that was starting to change I was terrified. It was around this time that I found out about Sophie.
I wasn't really planning on telling anyone about her . . . I just meant it as an empty threat. I wanted to keep you with me—to have you to rely on and help build me up, but when the new school year started and I got accepted into Le Cordon Bleu I knew that if the distance didn't end our relationship something else would . . . so I asked Chelsea to keep an eye on you for me. When I couldn't be there.
When she told me about a red-headed girl you had fallen head over heels for I thought she must be joking, surely you wouldn't do that to me . . . I was your girlfriend after all, but I had to be sure. That day when I called you, I had just gotten off the phone with my mom . . . my brother had been in an RV accident and was life-flighted to London. My mom didn't have enough money for both of us to fly out and see him, my dad wouldn't return any of my calls [but that was nothing new]. I didn't know how to approach the subject with you or if you'd even believe me, so when I called you that day in the park and found out you were out with another girl . . . I flipped.
I decided at that moment, if I couldn't have you then no one could and if you didn't want to be with me I was going to make your life hell.
And . . . well, you know the rest . . .
I didn't write this for you to feel pity for me or to make you feel guilty. I just needed you to know what happened, even if you don't believe me, even if it doesn't change anything because then maybe I'd hate myself a little less than I do now.
I'm sorry, Ian.
I don't deserve your forgiveness, I know that. I treated you horribly and blackmailed you so you would stay with me; I shouldn't have tormented you like that and held what had happened to Sophie over your head . . . I wasn't in the right state of mind . . . and I know that doesn't make things right or erase what I've done, but even if we're not together and I am no longer a part of your life I . . . I can't stand to have you picture me as a horrible, selfish monster.
I won't tell anyone about Sophie. I-I hope she gets the help she needs and I hope whoever you decide to be with that you'll be happy. You deserve happiness, Ian.
Sarah
When I finish reading the letter Sarah's tears aren't the only ones that stain its pages. My heart sinks in my chest as I wonder what Ian must have felt as he finally realized everything that was going on in Sarah's life—when he realized Sophie's secret is still safe.
A tear trickles down my cheek and I try to wipe it away before Ian notices, but I’m not that fast. His fingers brush against my cheek, wiping the tear away and then he catches my hand.
“Why are you crying?” His voice is soft and low.
I bite my bottom lip and then take a deep breath, before answering. “D-does this change things?”
“Sarah's letter?”
I nod.
“Why would this change things?” He asks, holding the folded notebook paper out for me to see.
“She was your first love . . . and you just found out she was grieving this whole time . . . she doesn't hate you . . . she probably loves you still. How can I compete with that?”
“Emily,” Ian says slowly, pulling me against him until I'm nestled into his side. “Will you stop trying to get rid of me?”
“I don't want to get rid of you . . . it's just I'd understand if you wanted to be with Sarah—“
He cups my face in his hands, and then leans in and kisses my forehead. When he pulls away he runs his fingers through his hair and then enunciates his next words slowly.
“You have nothing to compete with. I don't want to get back together with Sarah.” His voice is deep, calm. “I've always thought of life as one gigantic puzzle and everything that happens and the people we meet help fill and complete our puzzle. For the longest time, I thought the pieces would fit neatly together . . . slowly forming a picture.”
His breath is warm against my hair, sending tingles down my spine. “It wasn't until recently that I realized not all the pieces will fit together perfectly—some have chipped or the picture is peeling or come from a completely different puzzle set entirely.” He pauses lifting my chin until we're gazing into each other's eyes. “You showed me that there's beauty in our imperfections and that love can be found in the most imperfect, lost and broken people. You showed me that there is hope in the darkness
and I love you for that.”
My heart swells and I feel lightheaded. Ian loves me?
I turn to look into his warm blue eyes. Ian's eyes are magnificent; I could lose myself for hours staring into them. They seem to say, “I'm a nice guy. You can trust me.”
And, I do.
I trust Ian with my life.
Is that what it means to be in love? When you're in love with someone does it mean you have complete and utter faith in them? That you trust them not to break your heart but to help lift you up when you can't do it on your own?
That's the way Ian makes me feel, so does that mean I love him? I love spending time with him doing absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. Cinderella's voice sounds in my head so this is love, do do do do and I know without a doubt that I am in love with my best friend.
I peek at Ian. His head is resting on my pillow and his eyes are closed. His chest rises and falls slowly and if I hadn't just been talking to him I would have thought he was asleep.
“Ian?”
“Mhm,” he turns to face me.
“I love you, too.”
Chapter Forty-Five
The next few months blur together as teachers pile on homework assignments anxious to get all their lessons in before the end of the school year, and before I know it the rainy showers of April are disappearing and flowers are in full bloom.
College acceptance letters arrive on a cloudless Tuesday in May. I hold my breath as Matthew hands me my letters—thankfully some of them feel heavy and thick . . . that must mean something good. My feet feel like lead as I walk back towards my dorm room, uneasiness courses through me as I think about how these small packages and envelopes will determine my future. I'm just about to unlock my door when strong arms wrap around my waist.
“I've been looking all over for you,” Ian murmurs into my hair. “Where did you go after your English class let out?”
I turn around and kiss him on the cheek.
“Mr. Allen let us out early . . .”
I hold up my college acceptance . . . or refusals a small voice reminds me, but I ignore it. No matter what the future holds I know I'll be okay.
Ever since Ian gave me that mind-blowing kiss at the carousel, I've had to keep reminding myself that my life isn't a dream; I feel the way I imagine Cinderella did when she first danced with Prince Charming or the way Ariel felt when Eric realized it was her voice he longed to hear the whole time.
I'm not naive and I'm not putting all my eggs into one basket as my grandmother would say, but something feels permanent about Ian and I. True, our relationship could just be a sweet high school/college romance, but I also think it has the potential to be so much more than that.
I feel it in my gut, and that both terrifies and excites me.
“Ah,” Ian says, starting at the envelopes in my hand. He pulls his own stack of envelopes from his backpack. “I'll open yours if you open mine.”
My lips curve. “Okay, but you can't give anything away until all the envelopes are open.”
I unlock my door and we go inside. I climb onto my bed, Ian following closely behind me.
“Okay, so on the count of three?” I ask, handing him my stack.
He shakes his head, laughing. “Shouldn't we just rip them open like a bandage? Quick and fast, so it's less painful?”
I shrug.
Ian gives me a lopsided grin, and then in one swift movement, he tears open the envelopes. He does this so quickly I wonder if he's a Jedi using The Force or has some other type of out of this world power.
The paper envelopes in my hands feel so heavy . . . and these aren't even my college acceptance letters. I glance at Ian as he scans my letters, hoping his face will give me a clue as to what they say, but it's a blank mask. I slowly, slide my finger under the crease in the envelope and open his letter from Emory University.
Relief floods through me as I read the letter. He got in. Now, I just need to keep my fingers crossed that I got in, too. I grab another letter of Ian's and notice he's staring at me.
“What?”
“You realize you have the worst poker face in the world, right?”
“No, I don't,” I say, stubbornly.
He holds up his hands like he's surrendering. “I don't want to argue with you, but I'm right.”
I throw Mickey Mouse at him. It bounces onto the floor. “Okay, Mr. I'm Always Right, why do I have the worst poker face?”
“I totally got in.” He points to the letter I just opened. “Don't know what school it is for, but your face didn't hide anything.”
“Oh,” I gulp. “Sorry. I was just excited because I applied to the same school and maybe I got in, too.”
He nods, and then he clears his throat. “Would you want to live in England?”
Yes! I almost shout this and then my mom's face fills my mind . . . she's stable at the moment and her scans since the New Year have come back clear, but I'm not sure I want to travel all the way across the ocean to attend Cambridge University, and even if I did, I doubt I got in.
The university is very competitive, prestigious and almost impossible to get into. And, if I'm being completely honest with myself my grades and extracurricular activities haven't been up to par. On the other hand, I'd gladly go to any university in England if it meant I could stay with Ian.
Heat rises to my cheeks. Is he asking if I want to stay with him?
My voice shakes as I say, “I-I doubt I got into Cambridge and—“
“What if you did?”
I sigh.
“It'd be hard to be away from my mom and Sammy, but it would be fun to explore the country and spend more time with you,” I say this last part so quickly the words smash together.
“That's good to know.” Ian smiles at me like he's creating a grand master plan and I can't know anything about it.
“So, what schools did I get into?” I ask, leaning closer to him, trying to see the letters, but before I can see anything someone knocks on my door. I climb off my bed, open the door and Danielle comes racing into my room.
She's bouncing up and down. The excitement coming off of her in waves; I find it hard not to smile too. She jumps up and down and screams. “I got into Yale! I got into Yale!”
I fling my arms around her and start jumping up and down too. “Danielle that is so awesome! I knew you could do it. Have you called Cooper yet?”
Her cheeks blush.
“Yep! As soon as I told him he said he always wanted to move to the East Coast.” She pulls away. “I need to get things ready, I have so much to do. I need to order something with Handsome Dan.”
“Who?” I ask, but she's already out the door. I'm about to sit back on my bed when she pops her head back in. She clears her throat. “Um, Ian. Didn't you need to go do that thing?”
He pulls out his phone. “Oh, yeah! Thanks, Danielle!”
She winks at him and then skips away.
“What thing?”
He doesn't answer me, but instead kisses me on the forehead and then slowly on my lips. “I won't be able to eat dinner with you tonight, but I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”
I nod.
I grab his hand, lacing my fingers through his, and then stand up on my tiptoes and kiss him again. “I love you more than Mickey loves Minnie.”
He rubs his nose against mine giving me an Eskimo Kiss. “And, I love you more than Batman loves the Batcave.”
The following morning, Ian texts me and tells me he wants to take me out to dinner to make up for ditching me [his words] the other night. I've been standing in front of my closet for the past two hours, trying to figure out what I should wear, but I'm coming up empty. My fingers run across my mint green dress with the floral lace, and I'm just about to pull it off the hanger when there is a knock on my door.
When I open the door, no one is there. A long, rectangular box with a giant silver bow sits at my feet. There is a small black envelope resting on top. My heart pounds in my chest.
“I
an?” I hiss, certain the box is from him.
I glance up and down the hallway, stupidly waiting for him to jump out and yell “SURPRISE!” When he doesn't my heart sinks. It's probably just a graduation gift from my Grandpa. I sigh, grab the package, place it on my bed and then head back to my closet.
As I continue to rummage through my clothes I can feel the weight of the package on my bed; it almost feels like it's staring at me menacingly, taunting me to open it and see what's inside. Should I . . . open it? I should wait, right? If it's from my grandpa he'd want me to wait until it gets closer to graduation, but if it is from him . . . why did he send it so early? Graduation is still 3 weeks away.
I walk back over to my bed, holding my mint green dress in hand. After placing the dress on my bed, I pick up the small, black card and twirl it in my hands. If I open the card, then I'll know who the gift is from. Yes, it could be a graduation gift, but on the other hand, it could be something else entirely.
I hold my breath as I slide my finger under the envelope and slowly pull out a card. On the front of the card, there is a picture of Winnie the Pooh holding a bunch of balloons and the words thinking of you. My face scrunches together as I open the card.
Who is this from?
A Mickey Mouse head is taped on the inside of the card. My stomach gets warm and fuzzy as I recognize the long, elegant strokes of Ian's handwriting.
I have a surprise for you.
Follow the clues to find out
what you must do!
Clue #1 will soon be found
all you have to do is turn around.
I glance behind me at the box sitting on my bed. Underneath the giant silver bow, a small piece of paper sticks out. My fingers pull the bow off. The small piece of paper reads "open me."
A smile spreads across my face as I tear the wrapping paper. Inside sits a white short sleeve t-shirt with a silhouette of Prince Eric, under the silhouette it reads her prince with an arrow pointing to the left. I pull the shirt out and find another Mickey Mouse head.
The Missing Piece Page 31
