Page 153 of Hate Me Like You Mean It

There had been no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Gampy and my mom drove to visit her almost daily, Wednesday night family dinners were reinstated with Rosie in attendance, and Adrien and I were back to not being able to avoid our family, even if we wanted to.

It was perfect.

“We’ll need to get Maxwell a tux for the wedding,” Dominic muttered absentmindedly.

“He’s not invited.”

He chuckled, tilting his head and playfully nipping at my breast. “Don’t talk about my boy like that.”

“Your boywill shit on my veil before I’m even halfway down the aisle.”

“He gets excited. Leave him alone.”

“Fine. But if he gets to come, I get to tell my family the unfiltered version of our engagement story.” The one in which he’d cried. A lot.

The conditioner tumbled out of my hand when he pulled me onto his lap, pressing his smiling lips to mine. Giggling, I looped my arms around his neck.

To be fair, I’d also bawled my eyes out. He’d outdone himself with the proposal.

I’d ventured home alone after work last Friday, having been misled about Dominic’s late-afternoon meeting obligations. I’d unlocked the door, walked in, and almost tripped over my own shock when I saw him standing in the middle of the foyer, surrounded by candles and red rose petals.

Before I could say anything, he’d pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to me. “This is for you.”

My hands were shaking, my heart clenching as I opened the crumpled pages, careful not to pull too hard at the tape holding the torn pieces together.

Alice.

I’ve written a thousand different versions of this letter, but I still can’t seem to get it right.

I don’t know where to start, how to articulate any of the things I need to tell you, and Ireallydon’t know how you’ll react to any of it.

What I do know is that I’ll never be able to live with myself if I don’t at least try, so I’m just going to tell you the truth, and hopefully that will be enough.

You’re the best part of my day.

Whenever my alarm goes off, the first thing I think is that I’m twenty minutes away from seeing you again. Fifteen, if I can hurry. That’s why I’m always late to school when you’re sick. I keep pressing snooze and trying to fast-forward time until you’re better.

You probably think that’s stupid. It sounds stupid when I write it out. But I don’t know how else to say it, and I think I might fail all my classes at university if you’re not there to get me out of bed. That’s kind of why I’ve been tutoring you so hard and why I waited to see where you were going first. I don’t really care which school I go to as long as you’re there too. Otherwise, I would miss you so much, I’d be tempted to keep pressing snooze until the semester ended.

I would even miss arguing with you. I love arguing with you. It feels exactly like being suspended at the top of a rollercoaster, right before the big drop. I would argue withyou every minute of every day if I could. You don’t look at anyone else when we’re bickering. And maybe that’s really selfish and I shouldn’t like it, but I do. It’s the only time I get to stare at you without being scared I’ll get caught.

Your eyes are my favorite color.

They’re so green, and so dark and vibrant that I don’t understand how they can be real. Then again, I’m not really sure how you can be real. You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met, and you’re so beautiful, Alice, that sometimes it’s hard for me to breathe when I look at you.

I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been an ass to you. It took me a long time to learn how to cope with my feelings, and even longer to acknowledge them. If you don’t feel the same way and decide to return my hoodie, that’s okay. At least then I’ll know.

Anyway, I have to stop writing now. All the other letters were over eight pages long and would definitely hold up in court during a no-contact hearing, which you probably will want to file anyway. I think I’ll need to take out the thing about your eyes in the next version.

But in case I don’t chicken out, and this is the letter you get, and you’ve made it this far without running to the police, here’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

You’re the best part of my day. My favorite color.

You’re my favorite song, my favorite movie, my favorite game, and every good thing in between.

And I’m sorry to say, Loch Ness, that I think I’m in love with you.

I’d read it three times, shaking as I sobbed over the words while simultaneously trying to keep the pages dry. And I’d been so immersed in them that I hadn’t seen him drop down to one knee until he said, “It’s clumsy, I know, but I really did try my best.”