38. Sunny
A s soon as I hand Dex the letter, I yank it back with trembling fingers.
“Sorry,” I stammer. “I probably should have asked you this before, but…you’re not secretly married, are you? Or engaged? Or?—”
“No. I’m not in a relationship.” Dex half-smiles, and it’s all I can do not to wrap my arms around him and kiss the hell out of him for all eternity.
But first, I need to give him this letter. Just like Summer gives her letter to Rex at the end of the story I wrote.
With a sigh of relief, I hand it back to him.
He takes care in opening it, like he knows he’s holding a piece of my heart, and I watch as his eyes skate across every line of my confession.
What begins as a half-smile on his lips becomes a full one—and I’m filled with a sense of hope, like I’ve never felt before.
When he’s done reading, Dex meets my gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he takes my hand and threads his fingers through mine. I turn to face him, eagerly awaiting his response .
But he says nothing.
My mind starts to race.
Yes, he’s single—but what if he’s gotten over me?
Yes, he’s smiling—but what if he’s trying to think of a way to let me down gently?
Yes, his eyes are gleaming—but what if the look I see isn’t love so much as nostalgia?
When Dex finally opens his mouth to speak, it occurs to me that my letter doesn’t tell the whole story. Only a fraction of it. And he deserves to know everything.
I’m done holding back the truth.
“Wait—” I tell him. “Before you say anything, I want to explain. I wrote you this love letter ten years ago, when we were seniors in high school. I never gave it to you because…the timing wasn’t right…
but I’ve carried it with me ever since. I took it to college.
To law school. To Paris, and Chicago. On my first day going to court by myself, I had it tucked inside my briefcase.
See, I tucked my feelings away, Dex, but they’ve always been here.
No matter how hard I tried to hide it, or fight it, I have always loved you. And I always will.”
Dex lets go of my hand and looks down at the letter again.
My chest tightens.
“Did you really quote Savage Garden?” he says, still staring at the crinkled piece of paper.
I laugh despite my nerves. “Give me a break, okay? It was 1998.”
But when he doesn’t say more, my gut clenches as I brace myself for the worst.
After several seconds, during which my entire life flashes before my eyes, Dex folds the ten-year-old piece of notebook paper along its original creases and stands to put it in his pocket. Then he walks from the porch swing to the top of the steps. I follow his gaze up to the sky.
“What are you looking at?” I ask, my breathing shallow.
His eyes are now on mine. “I think the goddamn stars finally aligned,” he says, grinning.
My mind travels back to our tearful goodbye before I left for law school. We were right here on the Dexters’ front lawn when Dex tried to tell me he loved me—but I wouldn’t let him. I told him to wait until the stars align.
I felt like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders that day—leaving my soulmate behind for a career I was certain wouldn’t be a good fit. But that career is in my rearview mirror now. And my soulmate is in front of me, offering me his heart.
All at once, the tension in my body melts, and I can breathe deeply again.
I giggle as I look back up at the clear blue, sunny sky. “You’re right. I see it too.”
“So…” he says, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Does that mean you’ll finally let me say it?”
I take a step back and bite my lip. “Just one last thing—” I tell him.
He half-smiles and shakes his head. “Seriously, Sunny? How long are you going to make me wait?”
I chuckle, but my brow furrows. “I need to get this off my chest first. I want to tell you how sorry I am for breaking up with you in Paris.” My eyes fill with tears.
“You were so vulnerable with me about your anxiety. You told me you needed my help, and I abandoned you because I was convinced I wasn’t good enough for you.
” I sob. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself.
But if you let me…I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. ”
Dex takes me in his arms again. “Sunny, you don’t have to apologize.
You did the right thing. I put this huge burden on you to fix my problems—and that wasn’t your job.
I don’t know that I ever would have gotten the help I needed if you didn’t break up with me in Paris.
You did me the biggest favor of my life. ”
“Really?” I ask, wiping my tears.
“Really,” he says.
This time I know he’s being sincere.
I smile so wide my cheeks hurt. “Okay… now you can say it.”
Dex takes my face in his hands. “I love you, Sunny. I always have, and I always will,” he says.
And then we kiss.
We kiss, and kiss, and kiss, right there on the front porch—and we only stop when we hear the clicking sound of camera shutters.
There are two photographers on the Dexters’ lawn. When we spot them, they yell, “Thanks, Dex!” before running to their parked cars and driving off with screeching tires.
Dex shakes his head. “Welcome to my world,” he says. “Although it might not be my world much longer.”
My brow crinkles. “What do you mean?”
He half-smiles. “After the Oscars, I turned down a couple of roles. I’ve never done that before.
I always felt like I needed to work, because if I didn’t, well—I’d fall apart.
But I don’t feel that way anymore. I don’t need acting the way I used to.
So I was thinking of taking a break for a while to focus on a different project. ”
“What kind of project?” I ask, my eyes widening. The excitement in his grin is contagious.
“I want to work with kids, Sunny. Kids who have anxiety. I was thinking of developing a program that infuses the arts into mental health treatment. So kids would be getting the care they need from a therapist, while also learning how to use the arts to manage their symptoms. And maybe once or twice a year, we’d put on an original show.
Some of the kids could write the script, some could act.
Some could paint the sets, or play music.
” He shrugs, but his eyes are glimmering. “That’s all I’ve got so far.”
I blink back tears. “That sounds incredible, Dex. Where will you do it?”
“That’s the thing,” he says raising an eyebrow. “I can do it anywhere. Chicago, maybe?”
I wrap my arms around his neck and start kissing him. But before we get carried away, I pull back. “We probably should head inside before more photographers show up. By the way, I forgot to ask—what are you doing in Beachwood?”
Dex laughs and runs a hand over his hair. “I, um—I came here to stop your wedding.”
My jaw drops before I belly laugh. “ What ? Seriously?”
He nods. “I had it all planned out. A final grand gesture to win you back. It was going to be very dramatic,” he says, kissing me again. “But I like this ending a lot better.”
“This isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning,” I remind him, repeating the words he said to me under the stars, the last time we went camping.
With one arm wrapped around my waist, Dex threads the other under my knees and scoops me up.
“Where are we going?” I ask with a smile.
“I’m taking you home,” he says. “Well, to my parents’ home.”
“Where are they, by the way?”
“Visiting my Aunt Jane and Uncle Rich in Maryland. They won’t be back for a week. I’m sure you and I will be really busy making up for lost time…but at some point we’ll have to call and tell them we’re back together. I think they’ve been waiting for this day as long as I have.”
“Did they know about your plan to derail my wedding?” I ask with a smile.
Dex laughs. “Are you kidding? It was practically their idea.”
I heave a deep sigh. “I love them so much. And I love you.”
“I adore you, Sunny.”
After he pauses to grab my purse from the porch swing, the man I’ve always loved carries me across the threshold of the home I’ve always loved. He kicks the door shut behind us, then takes me upstairs to his bed, where we kiss each other endlessly, like teenagers again.
When we pause to take a breath, I sweep my thumb across his cheek.
Oliver Dexter smiles at me. “They’re happy tears.”