Page 39 of I Wish I Would’ve Warned You (Forbidden Wishes #3)

COLE

I return to my suite around midnight, long after the guests have toasted their final well-wishes.

As I remove my shoes, I spot a turquoise envelope under my door. I assume it’s yet another event invitation for this never-ending weekend, but the Please read me is in Emily’s curly handwriting.

I hesitate before opening it, pulling out my phone instead.

You know I don’t like surprises, Emily.

What’s in this envelope?

Just read it.

Come over and read it to me in my bed…

I can’t.

Can’t or won’t?

Both.

Sighing, I crack open a beer and tear open the flap.

There’s no “Dear Cole” or a letter.

It’s one of her poems…

You gave me a warning the night that we met?—

A look full of fire and quiet regret.

I should’ve known it was doomed from the start?—

Two borrowed names, one reckless heart.

Strangers then, now bound by blood,

A flame that flickered through the flood.

We had no shelter, no place to stand?—

Just trembling hope and trembling hands.

The spotlight’s rising—it cuts like a knife.

And I’m so close to reclaiming my life.

We’d need new ways just to hide our truth,

But why keep chasing a stolen youth?

I want a love that can stand in the light,

Not something buried, blurred by night.

And truthfully, we barely began?—

Just heat and ache and a fragile plan.

I won’t betray the one who bore me,

Even if she no longer knows me.

She’s all I have—and I’m her spine.

Some debts are paid in blood, not time.

So I’m asking you—please let me go,

As I let go of what we’ll never know.

If it was real, then let it rest.

If not, then wish me all the best.

If you love me, don’t call. Don’t try.

Just let this be our last goodbye.

—Emily