Meanwhile, Cooper’s words play on loop in my head.You’ll know once you make a decision, if it’s the right path for you.
But will I?
There’s so much going on. Dad went home on Wednesday. I got him settled, went grocery shopping, made sure he had everything he needed. I’ve stopped by each day after work tocheck on him, spend a little time together. Michael and I even set up a meal delivery service for the next week so dinners are taken care of.
It’s been an emotional few weeks. Cirrhosis is unpredictable, and even now, with Dad doing well… You never know when he just won’t be again.
Jensen has made it all bearable. That has to mean something. Doesn’t it?
I shake my head against the headrest and close my eyes. I need some kind of sign. Something that will give me clarity.
I start from the beginning.
Seeing him in mediation. The phone call, me leaving in a hurry. Him following.
The look of worry in his eyes.
The letter he handed me.
The letter.
Oh my God. How did I forget about that?
I pull my oversized purse onto my lap, fingers diving into the chaos. It has to still be in here. I unzip the inside pocket, and sure enough, there it is.
I pull it out, toss my purse onto the passenger seat, and break the seal.
Slowly, I slide the letter from the envelope.Why have I waited this long to read it? And why am I so flipping scared to do so?
Just do it. Read it.
I exhale, unfold it, and grip both sides, my hands trembling. I bring it closer.
Dear Alley,
It’s my last week here in rehab. Pathetic that I had to end up here in the first place, I know…
But I did it.
Detox was the most physically brutal thing I’ve ever endured. Therapy was emotionally and mentally exhausting. But the hardest part of all of this has been being away from you. And if that wasn’t hard enough, knowing you might not be there when I get back… that’s a kind of pain I don’t even have words for.
Because you are my life.
My entire world.
I dab at my eyes, already brimming with tears.
Shit.
I keep reading.
I can’t imagine breathing air that doesn’t have you in it. Waking up to an empty bed in the morning. Not seeing your smile. Not hearing your laugh.
You make my life better, Alley. Every part of it.
If this is the last letter I ever get to write you, then thank you.
For loving me. Even when I didn’t deserve it.
