Inappropriate - Vi Keeland Page 0,103

fitting right about now. I felt the same strange calm as the water, even though I’d expected to feel just the opposite on this day. Saying goodbye to this boat was so much more than leaving a place I’d lived for years. Though she wasn’t going anywhere—not as long as Pops still wanted to visit her. But it was time for me to move on. Time to stop starting and ending my day with the memories that would forever haunt me, and time to start making new ones—ones filled with happiness. There was just one more thing I needed to do.

I took a deep breath and picked up the pen and paper I’d left out when I packed the last of my things. A sealed envelope sat on the bench seat next to me, one of thousands I’d received and thrown out over the years. But today when my daily letter arrived, I tucked it into my pocket rather than tossing it into the trash. I didn’t intend to read it, but I needed the return address today.

More than three thousand of these envelopes had to have come and gone since I first met Lily at fourteen. I’d had the power to stop them at any time—yet I never did—and now I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I wanted the daily reminder as part of my punishment. Maybe I wanted Lily to have the same daily reminder of what she’d done every time she picked up a pen. Maybe I was just so fucked in the head, I was afraid I wouldn’t think about my daughter without that daily letter. I don’t know. But whatever the reason, today was the day it came to an end.

I looked around one last time, imagining Lily standing on the deck that night. I had seen that image in my mind a thousand times before. Squeezing my eyes tight, I swallowed back the taste of salt in my throat before finally lifting the pen to the paper.

Lily,

I don’t know how to forgive you.

Maybe by now I should have found God or something—found some way to accept what you’ve done and make peace with the idea that it wasn’t your fault. But I haven’t. That’s not what this letter is about.

I need to tell you I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I fell asleep that night.

I’m sorry I didn’t see the depth of what you were going through and take Leilani far away.

I’m sorry I put what you needed above what our little girl needed.

I’m sorry I didn’t see it coming.

I’m sorry I didn’t protect our little girl.

I fucked up. I fucked up, Lily.

I’ve spent the last seven years avoiding anyone I might love. Because I thought when you fall in love, you become blind to that person’s flaws and only see what you want to. I was afraid of not seeing who someone is again. I thought I could control who I loved.

Until Ireland.

Ireland made me realize we don’t have a choice who we fall in love with. We fall in love by chance. But staying in love and making it work isn’t something that happens by chance—that’s a choice. And I’ve chosen to love Ireland.

Because of that, I’m writing today to tell you I’ve fallen in love with someone else and to ask you to stop writing. Who knows, maybe it will help you move on, too.

I wish I could tell you I found a way to forgive you. But I haven’t yet. Maybe someday that will happen. It’s not something I can force. I have a long way to go and a lot of healing to do, but I’ve decided that forgiving myself might be the best place to start. So while I’m not able to fully open my heart and grant you forgiveness, I’m asking you to forgive me. I need to move on. I want to stop hating myself and work toward finding peace. That starts with us.

Please forgive me. Someday I hope to return the gift of forgiveness.

No more letters.

Goodbye, Lily.

Grant

Epilogue

* * *

Ireland - 15 months later

“I still can’t believe you did all this.” I looked out the window and watched a team of people stringing lights from palm trees and laying a wooden dance floor over the sand. Grant came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He kissed my bare shoulder.

“You don’t make it easy to surprise you.”

Grant and I had gotten married when I was five months pregnant. A big party wasn’t important to either of us,