Yours, For Good (Cozy Latine Billionaires #4)

31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Date : June 14 To : Eleanora From : [email protected] Subject : I'll try

Dear Nora,

It's been less than a week since you stood in my home and learned what I did. At first, I told myself I should wait, but that's what I've done up to this point. I waited to see if you made friends of your own and I could fade into the background, then waited until you graduated. After our kiss I waited, too, hoping you would find that you could live knowing that I hid something.

It's time for something different. You know I am Mr. B… or that I was? I don't think he's in the picture anymore. You're free of him. Still, here is one new piece of truth for you: I miss knowing what you are up to. I want to ask you about your business and how the set up is going, and do you have plans to see Sally any time soon? (And her family at large, or even Jim in particular. I'm afraid that has been on my mind more than I'd like to admit.)

I wish we could sit outside in the backyard at my home, drink something together and talk about books. I wish I could ask how you'd feel going with me to a fundraiser gala for the JGH coming up. I wish I could ask you if you wanted to meet my friends.

I miss getting to hear about every stray thought going through your mind. I want to get reacquainted with your heart. With all of you, if you'd let me.

Of course, I understand you may choose not to read this email (funny, this deja vu feeling, because you said the same thing in your first email to me). You may ignore every one of these words, and that's your prerogative. We didn't agree I wouldn't reach out, so I don't think I'm crossing boundaries, but these messages may still be unwelcome.

If they are, please ignore them. If they're not… I hope they help somehow.

Javier

Date : June 18 To : Eleanora From : Javier Subject : hypotheticals and the multiverse

Dear Nora,

It's been a week since we last saw each other, and a few days since my first email. I understand why you didn't reply and, believe me— I know I have no right to ask for a response.

Even so, in the hope that you're reading this email and didn't outright block me, I'm sending another note. If you'll allow it, this one is a bit of a confession.

Not knowing if I would get the original journals back, I made copies. Sometimes, I like to go back and read who I was years ago, and I didn't want to lose this period of my life. This time, I read what I wrote and tried to imagine how you might respond to it all.

I'm not sure if you'll agree with my reasoning at the time, when I first realized I couldn't introduce myself as Mr. B., and decided to show up as myself. As a potential friend. Looking back, the only possible alternative was to refrain and never go to San Francisco. It was the only way to protect your participation in the program and the program itself. It would have also meant I never got to see your smile, or discover our shared interest in books. I would have had to live with the guilt of putting you in an environment I couldn't help you with, and with the curiosity of who was the person behind these letters I craved. I suppose that would have been the most ethical course of action. For allowing my emotions to rule my morals at the time, I apologize, Nora.

While the above is true, I have to confess there's a part of me that is thankful for it all. Does it make me a horrible person to admit that? Don't get me wrong, I will forever regret the pain I have caused you. I imagine what might have happened, if you had gotten closer to Julia like you did at the end of the program, and I had met you at my brother's dinner table. Or if, in another life, we had met without the help of the incubator and my niece deciding to attend it at the same time.

Could we have become friends? Would I have felt my emotions wake up from slumber, the way I did with knowing you the past many months?

I don't know, Nora. This hypothetical won't help me find answers, but it shows me just how much I appreciate what you've brought to my life.

I hope that, whatever you decide about how much— if at all— you want me in your life, you come to find pieces you're grateful for, too.

Javier

PS: I mostly expect you not to respond to this email either and, like I said, I deserve it. This postscript is to acknowledge the courage you had writing all those letters to Mr. B. Opening your heart like that. I don't know if you kept checking your inbox and seeing no response like I do, or if you felt like I do each time but, if you did, let me add another apology for what it might have caused you.

On my part, I'm willing to reveal that not hearing from you has me in agony. Not that you have to do anything about it, but it's the truth.

Date : June 30 To : Eleanora From : Javier Subject : in case you want to know.

Dear Nora,

It's officially summer, and almost a year since I read your file at the JGH Board meeting, and decided you were a perfect fit for the incubator program. It's also been almost two weeks since I last saw you. I think I'm starting my emails like that because when I come back to read them in a year or two, I won't have to do the math for how long it was that I didn't hear from you. Isn't that a strange plan to have? I don't know where we'll be in two years! And I don't know if I'll have you in my life.

It's with that in mind that I'm attaching a few screenshots I've taken of book passages that made me think of you. There's a bunch more, but I'll send them in future emails.

In any case, the main point of today's email is different. I've been thinking a lot about the question you asked me that day before you kissed me.

Can best friends be lovers?

It's a question about what makes the difference between friends and lovers, isn't it?

When I think of Max or Gabe or Jake, I know I love them. It's this feeling of certainty that settles in my chest that harbors no doubt. Meanwhile, I've never had that kind of conviction in matters of the heart. In fact, for a long time, I wondered if I wasn't capable of more than a passing romantic affection for someone.

Then… you. Sometimes, I put my hand on my chest and touch the necklace I don't think you've ever seen (did you ever get that tattoo, by the way?), and I feel my heartbeat. I just did it again. This feels different, in a way that's hard to describe. No wonder there are an infinite number of words written about it. Music that pulls at the heartstrings trying to define it.

I don't understand it. I can't name it yet. All I know is that it's like friendship, but different.

You are the first person to make me shake in my shoes with the need to figure it out.

I thought you should know.

Javier