* * *
My dumbest brother Ian,
This is probably the hardest letter to write because there’s so much to say. First, if you’re reading this, both David and I are gone. I’m sure this was hard on you because I’m pretty freaking awesome. You can cry now . . . I’ll wait . . .
Done yet?
Glad you got that out. Second, you are now in charge of my children’s wellbeing. Don’t fuck that up, big bro.
Christopher is a good kid, but he’s not good at showing emotion. Watch him, please. Make sure he knows that feelings aren’t bad, it’s how you handle them. Give him a lot of guidance in the girl department too, his father doesn’t exactly know “the moves.” Lord knows you sure have that part down.
Morgan . . . I don’t know what to tell you about her because she’ll let you know exactly what she thinks. To be honest, that girl scares me a little. Be sure she stays away from guys like you. (Not to be mean, but let’s be real, you’re a heartbreaker.) However, she won’t listen—because she’s Morgan, so make sure that you’re there to pick her up off the ground when she has her first heartbreak. I don’t have to tell you that it’s a pretty dramatic thing for a girl.
Ruby, my sweet little precious jewel. She’s so little, and I worry that this letter will come too soon and she’ll never know how much I loved her. I worry losing her parents will shape her in a way we’ll never be able to understand. I think about all the things she will need her mother for and I won’t be there. Please tell her about us. Show her photos, remind her that I wanted her more than anything.
You may wonder why you got them and not Mom and Dad. Well, it’s because I know you. You have the greatest capacity for love. You’re a kind, protective, and giving man, Ian. No matter what you try to tell yourself. There is no one in this world who has a greater opinion of you than me. I’ve been on the receiving end of your big heart. I’ll never forget how you were always the shoulder I cried on when someone hurt me. So, now I want you to do the same for my children.
Finally, I want you to get your head out of your big ass and go to London. Tell her you love her. Tell her you were a stupid idiot who was young and thought you knew what she needed more than she did.
You don’t know what she needs! She does. You love her, Ian. I know this in the depths of my soul, and guess what? She loves you too. She’ll never admit that because you’re a jerk, but she does.
Now that I’ve bestowed all my wisdom, I’m going to dry my eyes and pray you never read this. I love you.
* * *
Love,
The best sister in the entire world. You’re welcome.
* * *
A tear rolls down my face as I smile. My sister was an asshole, but I loved her. And sure enough, my sister dispensed advice I didn’t want to hear.
But instead of making me feel worse, it makes me feel a little better. Sabrina saw something in me. She knew in her heart I was capable of being the person the kids would need. She knew I would love and protect them forever. And maybe if London hadn’t gotten that offer, Sabrina would have been right about us, too.
I toss the letter down and head into my closet. I go to grab a T-shirt only to touch the UNLV shirt that London gave me.
Why? Why is the goddamn universe trying to remind me of her and what we shared? Why can’t I just give her up and not have to feel this fucking pain? I ball the shirt up and throw it across the fucking closet.
I’m doing the right thing. I know this, but I’m fucking dying here.
A car horn honks outside, and suddenly, panic sets in. My heart begins to race and everything becomes clear. London is leaving. She’s going to leave me and I’ll never get her back. There won’t be a second chance or a return home after college. This will be the ending of our story.
I can’t let that be.
I look up at the ceiling. “Okay, I get it! Thank you, Brina!”
As fast as I can, I get dressed, tossing the shirt I threw across the room on and then a pair of sweatpants. I need to get to her and stop her. We have to talk. I practically fly out of the room and barrel to the back door. She can’t leave like this.
The door makes a loud bang as I throw it open, and I hear Morgan and Chris yell after me, but I don’t stop.
I make it across the back lawn and into her driveway only to see a car heading away from her house.
No.
“London!” I yell as I run toward the car. “London! I’m here! Stop the car!”
I see brake lights and stop the sprint, but the car doesn’t stop—it makes a left, and she’s gone.
“Fuck!” I scream and sink to my knees on the pavement. “I fucked it up. I fucked everything up!”
My chest is tight from being out of breath—at least that’s what I’m telling myself. It has nothing to do with the fact that I just lost her or that I don’t know how I’m going to do this without her. How do you live with half a heart? How do you go on when everything you want is gone?
I stare at the corner, hating the car that took her from me, this house, her job, and myself for letting her ever get in that car. She left early, just like I should’ve known she would.
I broke her and now . . . I have to fix us.
In my head, I swear I hear my sister’s voice ask . . . what are you going to do now, Ian?
There’s only one option—I go get my girl.
I fight for her.
Pushing up off the ground, I run back to the house. All three of the kids are staring at me and I point inside. “Go! Get ready! We have to go get her!”
Morgan claps her hands and Christopher has a huge smile.
“Don’t just stand there!” I say as I get closer.
“Right! Yes! Let’s go get Aunt London!” Morgan yells.
Twenty-Two
London
How many tears are too many?
I wonder if you can actually break your tear ducts from overuse. If so, I’m on the cusp.
I cried all night long.
I cried as I threw shit in a bag.
I cried as I stared at his door, wondering if he could feel me begging him to love me.
I cried when the stupid car came and drove away, leaving my heart in his hands.
Now, I’m crying again as I’m standing in line to get through security.
It feels as though someone is literally ripping my heart out of my chest. The pain is so intense, it hurts to breathe.
“Miss?” The man behind me taps my shoulder.
“Yes?” I glance over my shoulder at him.
When he gets a look at me, he blinks and takes a step back. “Are you all right?”
No. No, I’m not. I’m broken, hurting, feeling as though my life is over. “I’m . . . I’m not sure.”
“Can I offer you a handkerchief?” He reaches inside his jacket and takes one out.
“Thank you.” How sweet, he’s a gentleman. Men don’t normally carry handkerchiefs anymore, do they? And here’s a nice man being so sweet to a crazy lady in line who can’t stop crying long enough to move up.
“Are you real? Do men like you still exist?” I ask as I blot my eyes. “True gentlemen, I mean? Guys who are chivalrous when they see a woman in distress? Because I thought I knew a guy like you once, but he turned out to be a shithead.”
The poor stranger purses his lips and nods, looking a bit uncomfortable. “I see.”
“Do you? Because I can’t see it. I’ve tried. He acts like he loves me and yet he just threw me away. Who does that?”
“Um, I don’t really—”
“If you love someone, you hold them close, you cherish them, you give them your heart. You don’t say it was never anything to begin with and tell them to take a job all the way across the country!” I blow my nose in the soft fabric and the tears fall harder. “Jesus Christ, just look at me!”
“You do seem very upset,” the handkerchief gentleman says, probably sorry he tapped my shoulder in the first place.
“I’m not normally like th
is,” I explain. “I’m a career woman who never gave two shits about men and their games. I graduated summa cum laude from Northwestern with a degree in finance. I worked my ass off to get to the position I just got, in a sea of asshole men because I’m smart. But here I am, crying because of Ian fucking Chase.”
“Would you like to step out of line, miss?” The guy behind him asks.
“No!” I say a little too vehemently, my spine snapping straight. “No. I’m going to New Jersey, sir. I’m leaving, because I have no reason to stay.”
“Just asking, because—”
“No one to love me,” I blubber on, my posture wilting again. “No one to care. Even my cat didn’t give a shit when I left him this morning. How is that for pathetic?”
Handkerchief gentleman puts his hand on my arm. “Maybe you should sit down,” he suggests.
“When is someone going to love me?” I throw myself at the poor guy, a stranger in the airport, clinging to him like a weeping toddler. “When is it my turn? Have I made all the wrong choices in life? How did I get here?”
He falls back a little because of the force with which I’ve launched myself at him, but he rubs my back, saying it’s going to be okay. Why couldn’t Ian do this? Why isn’t it his arms that are around me, giving me comfort?
Oh, because he’s a chicken-shit asshole who doesn’t know a good thing when it slaps him in the face.
“I’m sorry,” I sob into the guy’s shoulder, wetting his nice blue button-down shirt. “I’m so sorry.”
“Uh, it’s all right, but the line is really long, and if—”
“London!” A deep voice booms, echoing throughout the cavernous airport security area.
I pick up my head and sniff. I know that voice.
“London! Don’t go!”
Frantically, I look around. Am I dreaming this? Have I lost my last remaining tether to reality? Or is it really Ian I’m hearing?
The crowd around me murmurs and shifts. Something compels me to jump out of the line, leaving my small suitcase behind. I shove people aside and hurdle the yellow security ropes, not easy in heels and a skirt.
“There she is!” A younger voice, female.
I spin around, my jaw dropping open. Then I clasp my hands over my mouth. Running toward me is Ian, carrying Ruby, followed by Morgan and Christopher. The kids are in their pajamas, Ian is wearing sweatpants, flip-flops, and an old UNLV T-shirt—clothing I was sure he normally wouldn’t be caught dead in outside the house—and his hair is a total mess. He looks insane.
But I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than the sight of them rushing toward me, never heard anything as heartwarming as the sound of them calling my name, never known a feeling as deep and powerful as the love I feel for them as they reached me.
“London,” Ian chokes out, setting a smiling Ruby down and leaning forward, hands braced on his knees as he caught his breath. “Thank God.”
“What’s going on?” I shake my head, amazed and baffled. “What are you doing here?”
“He’s fighting for you!” Morgan claps her hands and jumps up and down. Even Christopher is wearing a grin.
“Hush.” Ian gently pushes his niece aside and takes my hands. “London. Don’t get on that plane. Don’t go.”
“I have to, Ian. I took the job like you told me to.” My eyes fill again. “Remember what you said? ‘There’s nothing here worth staying for.’”
“I lied.”
“What?” I shrink back a little and search his face, but it’s open and earnest.
“I lied to keep you from turning down the job for me. I didn’t want you to resent me for ruining your career, for holding you back.”
My heart is pounding. “But I told you I didn’t care about my career as much as I cared about you. About us. And you still told me to go.”
Ian squeezes my hands. His eyes are glossy with unshed tears. “I know. And I’m sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing by making it easy for you to leave, but I was wrong. And I don’t want to make the same mistake again.”
“Again?” Something prickles on the back of my neck. “What do you mean?”
Ian takes a breath. “The first time we were together, I hurt you on purpose so you’d use your scholarship and go to Northwestern. I couldn’t let you give up your education, your dream, just to stay with me. I wasn’t worth it.”
“You . . . you hurt me on purpose?” The truth sinks in hard and fast, a knife through the heart.
He nods miserably. “I did what I thought I had to do. But letting you go hurt me too, Lon. Believe me. I meant everything I said to you that night. Watching you walk away from me at Sabrina’s party was pure torture. But I had to.”
I’m beyond shocked. “All this time . . . Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I tried, when you came back.” He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t listen to me.”
I bite my lip, wanting to defend myself but knowing he’s right. I made up my mind about him the moment I saw him at that party with another girl at his side. But if he’s telling the truth, and in my gut I feel like he is, then this could change everything. “So that was all an act? Then . . . and now?”
“Yes.” He moved closer and lowers his voice. “I never stopped loving you. Ever. Even when we fought, even when I pretended to hate you, even when I tried to forget you, you’ve always been the one.”
God, I want to believe him. But I’m scared. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. It’s not fair.”
He cradles my face in his hands and looks me right in the eye. “I mean every word I’m telling you, London. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. You’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been before. Without you, I’ll be lonely and miserable for the rest of my life, hating myself for pushing you away, when all I really want to do is hold you close.” He crushes his lips to mine. “Stay with me. Stay with us. Where you belong.”
I don’t think. I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. All I can do is feel. And in my heart I know this is my dream—this man, this family, this life we’re building together. “Yes,” I whisper, and a second later his lips are on mine, his arms are wrapped around me, and I’m being lifted right off the floor. People in the crowd cheer and whistle and applaud, and the kids hug each other and then us. I’m still crying, but the tears are happy now, and Ian is holding on to me so tight, it’s as if he’ll never let go.
“I love you,” he keeps whispering in my ear. “I love you so much, and I’ll never let you go.”
Eventually, we open our arms to the kids, and even Christopher, red-faced and grumbling a little, lets us include him in one big embrace. I’m sure we look a little crazy and ridiculous, but I don’t care.
I’ll never forget this moment as long as I live—a happy ending to one chapter of my life, but a brand new start to another.
I can’t wait to see where love will lead us.
Twenty-Three
Ian
“So what happens now?” Morgan asks from the back of the minivan I still can’t believe I’m driving.
“We go home.” London squeezes my right hand, which she’s holding in her lap.
“Whose home? Are you going to live with us now, Aunt London?” the nosy little thing wants to know.
“Um, I’m not sure.” London seems a little flustered by the question, but I’m not.
“I hope so.” I pick up her hand and kiss the back of it. “All that running across the back yard is getting tiresome, don’t you think? I feel like a teenager sneaking around.”
“Ian!” London laughs, her cheeks going beautifully pink as she glances into the back seat.
“Please. It’s not like we don’t know you stay the night.” Christopher’s tone tells me he’s rolling his eyes right now, even if I can’t see it.
“Seriously,” Morgan agrees. “You guys are, like, so obvious.”
In the rearview mirror, I catch Ruby’s eye and wink at her. “Well, Lon? What do you say? Think you can live with a hot
caveman, two smart-ass teenagers, and one adorable almost-first-grader?”
London laughs, and the sound warms my insides. “I think I can handle it.”
“What the heck, Uncle Ian?” Morgan shrieks in outrage. “Was that supposed to be a proposal or something? That’s not how you do it!”
I meet her defiant stare in the rearview mirror. A week ago I probably would have been angry at her big mouth, but today I just grin. This is my life now, and I’m embracing every chaotic, unexpected moment. “Oh no?”
“No! You have to give her a ring,” Morgan insists.
“And get down on one knee,” adds Ruby.
“And maybe phrase it a little differently,” my nephew suggests, the traitor.
“It’s okay, you guys.” London smiles at me sweetly. “Your uncle has already made me very happy this morning. One thing at a time. There’s no need to rush.”
But here’s the crazy thing—I want to rush. I want to marry London. I want to be her husband and introduce her as my wife, and love and cherish and protect her and these kids for the rest of my life. I feel like we’ve spent way too much time apart already, and patience has never been my strong suit. So when I spot a billboard for the Love Me Tender Wedding Chapel off the next highway exit, I quickly veer onto the off ramp.
“Ian?” London gives me a funny look. “This isn’t our exit.”
“It isn’t?” I spy a sign for the chapel, one of those horrible all-in-one places that will supply everything from rings to a license to witnesses to an Elvis-impersonating officiant, probably all for ninety-nine bucks.
London sees it too. “Oh, my God. Ian Chase, what on Earth are you doing?”
All I can do is grin.
When I pull into the Love Me Tender parking lot a couple minutes later, my heart is pounding. I turn off the car, turn around and look at the stunned faces in the back. “Well? Are you going to help me do this right?”
Hold You Close Page 20
