Better With You (Better Love 2)

She smiles once more and nods, then gestures again at the envelope. “Read that somewhere private.”

Talia heads back into the main room, and I decide to take her advice and sneak into another empty room before opening the letter. It’s on heavy, personalized stationery, with a cursive O. D. R. embossed at the top in silver print. The handwriting—Talia’s, I realize—is small, slightly slanted to the right, and impossibly elegant. I smile. It’s so fitting.

When I see my name written, I take a deep breath and ready myself for what’s to come. When my heart has slowed, I read.

Belle Bailey,

It was a pleasure meeting you. I’m sorry our time together ended the way it did, but I am hopeful that we will meet again soon. For any hurt you have been caused, I am sorry. It was done on my behalf, out of love, and I cannot help but feel responsible.

I cannot speak for Alex, but I would like to apologize for the part I played in your heartache. You see, I know now that I put too much pressure on my son, and on Talia, to fuel my happiness. In the dark times after my diagnosis, I held on tightly to any promise of light for the future, and one of those things happened to be the desire to see my son happy and in love. I wanted to leave this world knowing that Alex’s soft heart was protected. That he had found his partner, and that someone would love him in the way that he loves—endless, unconditionally, and with his entire being.

It was in my desperation that I did not see his and Talia’s situation for what it was—a misguided, albeit selfless, attempt at giving me hope for that bright future. The future that they knew I would not be able to experience.

It did hurt to learn that he and Talia were not together, but not for the reason you might expect. It hurt because they felt the need to keep up the charade for so long, and in doing so, they neglected their own happiness.

When I saw Alex with you, I knew he had found in you a heart to partner with his. You light him up in a way I have never seen. The way he smiles when you’re around radiates a love so bright that it illuminated all of my shadows. I’ve only been in your presence for a short while, but I see your strength and beauty, and you’re exactly the soul I would want for my Alex. Mon étoile. My star.

I do hope that you can forgive him someday for the pain he has caused you. I hope you will let him heal the cracks in your heart that he has made, and that you can help heal his. That you can heal and grow together. And I hope, too, that I will see you soon. You are a lovely girl.

All my love,

Odette

By the time I put the letter back in the envelope, I’m full-on sobbing. Heaving, chest-wracking, breathless sobs, and I can’t help but also laugh at what a mess I’ve become. Odette was grace and elegance personified, and I’m over here covered in snot and tears. But damn. I do love her son. She saw it, Talia saw it. I bet Ivy, Jesse, and Kelley saw it. Now that I see it, I think Riggs deserves to see it, too. Because he is just as his mother said. A soft, beautiful, worthy heart, and I am in love with him.

When the funeral is over,and everyone has said their condolences and given their hugs and shared their favorite memories, I take Riggs back to his condo and we watch 80’s films. We’re finishing up Ferris Bueller’s Day Off when he pauses the movie.

“Sundance, I have a favor,” he says, running his fingers up and down my arm as I lie on his chest.

“Anything.”

“Well, it’s more like I want to ask your permission.”

“Sure,” I say slowly, then roll over so I can prop myself on his chest and make eye contact. “What’s up?”

“Your tattoo. The one on your chest.” He moves his hand to the place just above my heart and grazes his fingers over it. His touch lights me up even through the t-shirt.

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if I could get one, too. The same one. For my mom.”

“I think that is a beautiful idea,” I say earnestly.

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Of course not. When do you want to go get it done?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Then let’s do it tomorrow.”

“Sundance,” he whispers again a while later. We’re lying on our sides now, our legs tangled together, our breaths mingling, listening to the movie credits roll.

“Yeah, Butch,” I say with a smile on my lips.

“I’m in love with you.” His eyes are locked with mine, love and reverence and a hint of fear swirling in his brown irises. My stomach tingles and my heart speeds up. “Dans mes heures les plus sombres, tu es ma lumière. I’m in love with you, Bailey. I’m keeping you. Forever.”

“I’m in love with you,” I rasp as happy tears fill my eyes. “And that’s good, because I’m keeping you, too. Forever.”

His kiss is soft at first, but it deepens quickly, feeding every ounce of love he feels from his lips into mine. And I take it all. I swallow it, and share mine with him, until it’s blended, and we’re connected, and this time, I’m never letting go.