could have known her.”
“You got the next best thing,” he said with a wink. “He has a lot of his mom in him, Julian. He cares—sometimes too much.”
“Yes,” I agreed, nodding. “He does.”
“You have a good day.” He gave me a small salute.
And I rode the elevator in emotional silence thinking about what Barry had said. I knew all those things about Julian, but hearing the respect in his doorman’s voice almost made me feel worse.
Because Julian was everything.
And deserved better than the words I had said without thinking.
I typed in Julian’s code and the door unlocked, letting me into the silent apartment. I walked around a little bit, and then I went to the table where my laptop sat.
I opened it again, this time without shaking.
And I read the last few comments Julian had written.
Not being able to speak to you would break my heart—this would be difficult for anyone—he was very brave, wasn’t he? Letting you accompany him into death so perfectly, knowing it would leave you with a permanent scar.
I burst into tears until I couldn’t see the computer screen. It took a few moments before I calmed down and read the last few paragraphs Julian had written.
And then, with shaky hands, I typed my peace.
The love Noah and I had wasn’t fleeting, but it was different from the love I feel right now. Our love was new, exciting, undying. Meeting Noah was like meeting my best friend, someone who I would do anything for. Now that you know how we fell in love—I think it’s time to tell you how the story ends. You see, I thought I would write this book, type “The End,” then go mourn his life until I was sick with it. But he wouldn’t have wanted that. In fact, he was adamant that if he married me it wouldn’t be fair to the man I fell in love with next. “Your second love is always your true love,” he said. “Your first love is where you make all your mistakes, and I refuse to die knowing you wasted so many stolen kisses with me, when they were supposed to be his.” It’s like Noah knew the minute we found out treatments weren’t working, he was already letting go, he was already floating away, telling me in as many words as he could that it was okay. So I’m okay writing “The End” to our story because I know that’s what he wanted. He didn’t want me to tell our story because of him—he wanted me to tell it because he knew it would help me. He knew I would need closure to this chapter so that I could start another chapter one.
I started writing this story thinking it was the end of something great, and not realizing it was also the start of something beautiful, something wonderful and new, something that would knock me off my feet. The reason you see comments in the margin of this book, the reason I’m keeping them, is because this isn’t just one love story. It’s two. Both are different. Both are beautiful. The man I first loved left this earth—and he left me with an angel with the name Julian Tennyson to stay with me and help me realize that it’s okay to have two loves, that my love for Julian doesn’t make my love for Noah any less powerful. When someone dies we don’t lose that love, we just make room for more. It’s the one thing that death blesses us with: the ability for our love, our hearts, to stretch in the face of loss. Mine did. By the time this book is published, I’ll be having a baby, and I’d like to think that Noah had something to do with that too . . . I’d like to think the snow falling outside as I type this is another omen that this is how our story was always supposed to be, and that he’s finally at peace.
The End
I left the computer screen open, and then went and lay down in Julian’s bed . . . our bed. And prayed he wouldn’t be mad that I’d left the hospital, or worried. I still couldn’t sleep, so I grabbed my phone and typed out at your apartment then sent the text.
He didn’t respond.
Ten minutes went by.
Another twenty.
I shouldn’t be upset, because it was my fault. “I’m so sorry, Julian,” I murmured.
“Me too,” came his voice.
I jolted up out of bed. He looked like