Being on his own wasn’t what he wanted anymore. It was too lonely. He didn’t want to revert to that dorky, solitary workaholic Lauren had dated. He wanted to be more. Loving her, and losing her, had changed him, and he didn’t want to go backward.

But still, the letter waited. He found ways to pretend it wasn’t there.

He had a life these days, sort of, even if it had started as a substitute for Lauren. He was a regular at the Eddy, though their ever-changing staff never could remember his name. He and Jen met there every other Wednesday for lunch, and sometimes Darius would join them. Radley and he still went there often, and since it was close to the office, he started taking his staff there, too.

He was heading up the robotics team at the Hope Center, which meant they would crush all other teams. He got his purple belt and graduated to be with the nine-year-olds. He visited the house in Cranston, which Radley was itching to name, and ripped out the kitchen countertops and took a sledgehammer to the hideous lime-green master bathroom. Radley had already furnished the office above the garage in anticipation of having his practice there.

The cherry blossoms burst forth, thrilling old gray Providence with color and beauty. Sarah went on a dating hiatus per Radley’s suggestion.

The letter waited.

And then, on a night in mid-April, two months after he was supposed to open it, Josh poured himself a glass of wine, called Pebbles up next to him, and held the letter in his hands.

Josh, #12

The last one.

For a year, she had walked him through his grief. For a year, she’d loved him from the Great Beyond, guiding him, getting him out of his own way, making him feel her love, hear her voice. For a year, he had had her even after he’d lost her.

It was time to read the last thing she had to say to him.

“Do you agree?” he asked Pebbles. She wagged her tail. “Okay. So be it.”

He opened the letter. It was longer than the others.

My darling, wonderful, kindhearted Joshua,

I love you.

 Picturing this year for you has been heartbreaking. In so many ways, I think I had the easier end of this stick. I got to die, and I had to leave you behind to do the work of living. I know it’s been hard and lonely and horrible. I’m so, so sorry, honey. The absolute worst thing about this disease was not that I was going to die from it. It was that I broke your heart, the one thing I swore I’d never do.

 I am so sorry I left you, honey. I’m so sorry I hurt you and caused you to be sad and angry and isolated. If I have any say about it, I’ll always watch over you and love you and smile down at you. I believe in your goodness more than anything else in my entire life.

 So this is the last thing on my list . . . and it’s the hardest one.

 Find someone to love.

 Oh, Josh. You’re alive and wonderful. Let someone love you. Someone great. I want you to open that amazing heart of yours again. I want you to be loved. I want you to have a fight with someone and have hot makeup sex. I want you to be a father. I want you to love your second wife just as much as you loved me.

 Don’t let me be your life’s tragedy. Let me be one of the best things that ever happened. One of the many best things that ever happened to you. Let our time together be a beautiful, happy time in your life that came to an end, but led to more happiness, more love.

 You’ve mourned me enough, and I’m sure part of you always will. But the facts won’t change. My life ended. Yours has not. You deserve everything, especially love, Joshua Park. You are single-handedly the best person I’ve ever met.

 It’s time to put me aside and move on without me. You can do it, honey. You’ve been doing it, even if you think you haven’t. Time keeps spooling out the days and weeks. You’re better now. You’ve healed. I know it. It doesn’t mean you’ll forget me. It just means it’s time to find someone else.

 On that note . . . I would like to present Sarah as a candidate.

 My guess is that you’ve become friends, and you’ve seen her the way she really is—so devoted and hardworking, funny and smart and kind. I bet she’s been there for you. I bet she loves you already. And I know she has wretched judgment when it comes to guys. You already know her, so you can skip over that awkward “where did you go to school” crap.

 Also, she thinks you’re hot. Which you totally are.

 Think of me as your matchmaker from the GB. If it doesn’t work, well, you gotta start somewhere, right? (Unless you married that woman you kissed a few letters ago, which makes this letter irrelevant.)

 I think I’m stalling, knowing this is the last time you’ll ever hear from me this way. I’m crying a little, Josh. Actually, I’m sobbing. I don’t know how to end this, but I know I have to.

 Take good care of yourself, honey. Be happy. Be full of joy. That’s all I ever wanted.

 Thank you for our life together. I was so happy. I loved you with all my heart, Joshua Park.

 I’ll see you again someday, my darling, wonderful husband.

 Lauren

He put the letter down, tears blurring his vision. This was it. She was gone. Again.

And suddenly it was there, right in front of him, the one memory of Lauren he’d been trying to bury. He couldn’t turn away from it anymore, couldn’t shove it down, couldn’t avoid it.

Suddenly, he was right back there again.

The last day of Lauren’s life . . .

The last hour . . .

It was time to remember that day. Then, maybe, he could let her go.

35

Lauren

No time left

February 16