Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I’m engaged to a wonderful woman—one who deserves a man whose heart belongs only to her. Her name is Darcie. She was actually one of my friends growing up, and we reconnected about a year ago. She’s kind and beautiful, and she knows this life inside and out. But moreover, she’s a good person whom I’m very fond of. I don’t think I would regret marrying her. The only thing I regret is that she’s not you. Once we’re married, I plan to take my vow seriously. Part of planning for that is trying to work out these unresolved feelings before I enter into a lifelong commitment.
For all I know, you may be in love with someone else right now. You might have moved on. I’ve tried to look you up. I’ve tried to find information, and I’ve come up with nothing.
I feel like this letter is my last hope in reaching you. I know I’m rambling. And admittedly, I’m a little pissed. (That means drunk, remember?) Having a few Negronis was the only way I could tolerate this engagement party. Which reminds me, I should probably return to it at some point. So, let me get to the heart of this letter.
If there’s any chance you’ve regretted being apart from me as I’ve regretted being apart from you, I need to know. Reach out to me. I don’t know what that will mean for us, but I’m fairly certain the only way I can go through with this wedding is if I know there’s no chance for us to reconnect in this lifetime.
I need to know whether you’re still thinking of me. I need to know whether there’s any chance you would want to see me again. If you don’t respond, I’ll understand. I will get the message loud and clear. I don’t know when you’ll get this letter, but my wedding is set for September 16.
I had to stop reading again. My heart was going a mile a minute. I looked at the date at the top of the letter: June 2, 2025. Holy shit. He’d written it a little over two months ago.
September 16.
I calculated in my head. Oh my God. That’s three weeks from now.
He’d assumed Mrs. Angelini would be here to tell me about this—which she absolutely would have the second she received it. But now, he must have thought I’d chosen not to respond. I looked at the envelope, and although the date stamp was smudged, it had an Express Mail label on it, which meant it probably took less than a week to get here. It had likely been sitting here for two whole months.
I braced myself to read the last part of the letter.
I don’t want to hurt Darcie. I have every intention of honoring the commitment I’m about to make. But I would be doing myself a great injustice if I didn’t at least reach out to you before it’s too late.
Again, you don’t need to respond if this letter in any way upsets you. I can’t begin to imagine where you are in your life right now and whether receiving this news is disruptive. But Felicity, if there’s any chance you would want to see me again, that you would want to throw caution to the wind as we figure things out together, I need to know.
With love (always),
Leo
With the letter in hand, I must have paced for three hours straight.
I have a chance to stop him before he gets married.
However, he had probably already assumed I wasn’t going to respond and had come to terms with his plans. Contacting him now would be cruel. It would turn his world upside down. Was that fair? But how could I not? I did still love him. This was my chance to tell him—something I’d never done. Hadn’t Mrs. Angelini’s sudden death taught me about leaving things unsaid?
Speaking of Mrs. Angelini, I would have given anything—anything—to have her advice right now. Sure, I could’ve called Bailey, but I didn’t always trust that she had my best interests in mind. I loved her, but she was way too reckless. She’d tell me to hop on a plane and go there tonight.
I looked up at the ceiling and said a silent prayer. I probably should have been talking to God, but it was Mrs. Angelini I tried to reach.
“What would you tell me to do?” I whispered.
I forced myself to take a shower, figuring running water might bring me some clarity. But it didn’t help.
As I got dressed, I felt more and more panicky, like my life now had a timer attached to it, and the ticking sound was deafening.
Needing something in my stomach before I passed out, I made my way to the snack cabinet. There wasn’t much in there, but I noticed an old blue can of butter cookies and wondered if they were still good. If so, I’d probably demolish the entire thing.