Page 57 of The Best Wild Idea (Off-Limits #3)

Grant

A year ago

Jules,

Welcome to Paris, sweetheart. The birthplace of love, the City of Light. The most romantic setting in the world!

Have you opened your window yet? Monica promised to get you the room with the view of that tiny little tower you always hoped to see one day.

The one that’ll sparkle with a thousand lights later tonight once the city has dimmed enough to let her shine.

I hope you pop the bottle of champagne I arranged to have delivered to your room so that you can have a celebratory glass before heading out to your reservations inside the tower tonight.

And I hope that you wear the gold dress I’m having delivered to your suite when you go.

I can see it in my mind, and I already know that the whole effect — you, the glittering tower, the gorgeous dress, the long champagne flute in your hand — it’s all stunning.

Imagining it is almost as good as getting to be there with you when it happens.

Almost.

And when you’re sitting in that tower, looking as beautiful as ever, with Silas by your side, I want you to think about what it is that I’m about to tell you.

Let it all sink in before you react, or do something rash, because if you still can’t stand him by the time you’re reading this, then what I’m about to say is going to come as a rather unwelcome surprise.

Or maybe, by this point, it won’t shock you at all.

You might even be happy to hear it and welcome him even more openly than before.

If that’s the case, then I want you to know that it’s okay.

Silas is in love with you, Jules. That man has always tried to hide it from us both, and I want you to know that he never acted on it, or even uttered the words out loud to me.

He’s too good of a friend to act on anything like that, but I think you’ve always been his kryptonite, whether he’d ever admit that to anyone or not.

But I know my best friend. And I know that he’s loved you since the first moment that I did too.

Ever since you asked for that pen in class and we flipped that stupid coin before I lost and chucked it in the river anyway.

You were always his one that got away. If he hasn’t yet told you that, or tried to show you in his own ridiculous Silas type of way, then let me be the one to break the news.

I wouldn’t say that it’s my pleasure to do so, but rather, my last, gut-wrenching gift to you.

The last time Silas and I talked while I was in the hospital, you were out with your mother for her birthday (remember, I insisted you go?) so Silas and I had time to discuss this trip alone over the phone. It was one of the hardest conversations we’ve ever had.

When I told him about this plan, about this trip, he shocked me at first by saying no.

Absolutely not, were his actual words, and I about fell over if it weren’t for all the rails and cords keeping me in the bed.

I thought I’d be giving him permission to have the trip of a lifetime with the woman I knew he secretly pined after.

But when I asked him why, at first he putted around the answer, making jokes that weren’t all that funny like “She’ll never want to spend that much time with me” or “You know I hate flying.” But I’d grown serious and insisted that he give me one good reason why he was saying no to all this.

“Because she deserves better.” He finally sobered up enough to say it. “She deserves someone like you. Not someone like me.”

Now, I’d always envisioned Silas as the guy who had everything.

The kid walking in wearing the cut-off tank with the coolest shoes, who didn’t give a fuck about the dress code.

The one who always knew how to keep one foot in the game without ever taking anything too seriously.

In so many ways, from such a young age, he was my idol, not just my friend.

The guy who taught me how and when to grow up.

How to exit my sheltered childhood and become a man that was worthy of someone like you loving me.

I owe all that to him. So, to be told that he felt like he didn’t deserve you shocked me.

“I’ve already screwed things up with her. Irreparably, I think. There’s no way she’ll want to spend that time with me. It’ll be torture for her.”

I told him that, given the chance, you might find yourself missing him as much as he missed you. And that the two of you could learn to trust each other again because you’ll both need each other.

But, most of all, I asked him to try to repair things with you. None of us are perfect, but we all make the most perfect mistakes that lead us to the life we were meant to have.

He eventually agreed to go and try. His reluctance wasn’t because he didn’t want to, but because he didn’t think YOU would want to. He didn’t want to put you through any of this.

So whether the two of you find it in yourselves to be strictly friends because it’s just too bizarre to cross that invisible boundary placed between you a decade ago by a silly little coin toss — or maybe you’ve found yourselves to be closer than you ever have — I want you to know that wherever I am, whether six feet under or looking down from above, I’ll be smiling if the two of you have found each other again.

Because the friends who choose to be family are what I already miss the most.

So, go feel unbelievably beautiful tonight, then return to Boston with a friend, or perhaps, more than that by your side.

Keep having the most incredible adventures and don’t stop.

Feel the wind in your hair, the spray of the ocean in your face.

Laugh in stone houses overlooking breathtaking views, and tonight, fall in love in a city that demands it.

You were the love of my life, sweetheart. But I hope there’s room for more than just one in yours.

I love you more than I ever thought possible.

So, once again, I’m reminding you of my final, most annoyingly ever-persistent request: Live this one-and-only life you have.

Love ferociously. Fall freely. Be exactly who you are now, without one single regret.

Trade the mundane for messy, and be irreverent.

Take it all in until there’s nothing left missing at the very end. And that goes for love, too.

Most importantly, from the very bottom of my heart, thank you, always, for letting me love you,

Grant