AN: This is the last letter. The next chapter will be the beginning of the fic, as the interlude that I mentioned in the earlier chapters will be skipped so that we can get to the juicy stuff. I hope you have enjoyed the series of letters, and thank you very much for reviewing!
Mrs Emma Pillsbury-Howell
PO BOX 92
Lima, Ohio
January 7th, 2017
Emma,
I am glad that you felt better after writing your letter. I felt better after reading it.
I take it that you didn't receive the letter that I sent to you fourteen months ago? You never replied, so I assumed that you didn't appreciate what I had to say. But now I know that you never actually received this missing letter, as your last letter read that you waited three years to write since you received my farewell letter. There was another letter, Emma. Perhaps it was the most important. But you never received it. It would have arrived at a dark time for you, in the midst of your divorce, I assume, so I am partly glad you never read it. Fate obviously laid a hand the day I posted it, because it was really never meant to be read by you. It was selfish and wrong and indescribably stupid. Now I can live with a lighter conscience knowing it never got to you.
Three years ago, I made a mistake by telling you to never write again. I was just so angry, Emma. I was frustrated and lonely and I didn't know where I belonged in the world. I do now. Finally, I can honestly say that there is stability in my life. Still, sometimes I wish you were with me. However, I don't think about you as often as I did. Maybe if our letters are sparse, our hearts will be happier.
I have moved on, and I hope that knowledge happily entertains you for the rest of your life. I have a new place. It's just two blocks away from Central Park, which you have probably guessed from the return address on the envelope. It's the best apartment I've had since I've moved to New York, and although it's slightly out of my price range, I feel like I've earned this little luxury. I wouldn't have received your letter, but as luck would have it, Rachel now lives in my old apartment, so she passed the letter on to me. I was surprised that there weren't photos of Lacey inside the envelope. I would love to see how grown up she is.
I'm sorry to hear about your divorce, but I am mostly so saddened to hear that Carl rarely sees his daughter. Poor Lacey. Poor you. Your daughter seems fantastic, like a light in your life that burns constantly. I don't think you could ask for more, Em. But Lacey, she deserves more. She deserves a father who loves her and wants to know her. Maybe when she is older, he'll have more interest in her. I know that is a horrible thing to say. But maybe horror is where the truth lies, waiting to creep up on us when our nerves are humming and we are too fragile to know any better.
I can only imagine how hard it must be to be a single parent. As wonderful as she sounds, I can only imagine that, at times, Lacey can be overwhelming. I hope you get a break at sometime during the day. I hope you can curl up on the couch with a good book. But I hope you aren't lonely when she's asleep. That's why I like New York. There's always someone awake somewhere. There's always noise and lights to talk to me when I'm lying awake thinking of what could have been.
It worries me that you say you'll never be with another person, to share your love with them the way you shared yourself with Carl and I. There are such wonderful people out there, surely better than Carl and I, and it's a terrible thought that you would turn away from someone who is actually worthy of your love. It's a shame that you can't trust the world enough to ever find that pleasure again.
However, as I write that, I can't handle the thought of you being with anyone else. I don't intend to sound possessive. It's just that, sometimes, I wondered if Carl knew what you were like in bed; what you were really like. You were an incredible lover. I wasn't expecting you to be so loving that night, and I say that with the greatest respect for you. I've never fit with anyone the way I fit with you, in every way. Years ago, I would have written that confession with anger. Now, I am fuelled with peace. And a little bit of longing.
You made the right decision in never making a choice. I only hope one day you confess to your daughter what you gave up for her. Tell her you gave up the greatest love of your life, so that she could have you as the best mother you could be. If she's angry with you for giving that love up, when it all could have worked out in the end, send her to me. I'll sit down with her over coffee and tell her how I was angry, too. Then I'll tell her that she's remarkable, just like her mother. And I'll tell her that one day, when she's asked to make a life-altering decision, the odds belong to her, and only her.
Maybe one day our paths will meet and we shall be able to smile without regret.
Good luck, Emma.
Love always,
The one who was always supposed to be yours.
