Chapter 33
Maddie
“We can stay home. I think we should stay home.” Nate follows me through the penthouse like a puppy. “What if you’re sick again?”
Speaking of puppy…I check that the dogs are behind us.
“I’m not sick. It’s passed.”
Stopping at the mirror, I give myself a careful once-over, and I have to admit, I do still look a little pale, even with makeup on. Although I’m feeling much better.
I’m even wearing my favorite heeled boots that peak out from my new high-rise, dark, wide-leg jeans, paired with an off-the-shoulder black sweater.
My hair is pulled back into a high pony, and my new necklace shines bright against the black.
Nate steps up beside me, draping his arm over my shoulders.
“Fuck,” he murmurs at our reflection. “We’re hot.”
I glance at him through the mirror, and annoyingly, he’s right, but more about himself.
It doesn’t hurt that Nate Davenport knows exactly how to dress without a single ounce of help.
Matching black sweater, tan suede bomber, dark jeans, suede Chelsea boots…the man looks like he just stepped off a runway.
But I don’t miss the faint shadows under his eyes.
We’re all feeling it today in different ways…even if none of us want to say it out loud.
Blissful ignorance seems to be the theme of the evening.
“Ready?” He sweeps my bangs aside and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Yeah.”
I head back into the kitchen, grab a sleeve of plain crackers, and toss them into my bag—just in case—before we make our way down the hall toward Leo’s.
He had to jump on a quick work call and is running behind, so we’re meeting on his side before heading to the pub.
When we cross over the threshold to Leo’s, Nate goes right to his cabinet, looking at his food.
“We’re eating soon,” I remind him.
“I know. But he always buys better snacks than I do.”
I blink at him. “You have someone buy all your food. The same lady, in fact.”
“Yeah,” he says, rummaging. “But I give her a list. I try to be healthy because I actually care about my body.” He takes out a bag of Doritos. “See.”
I roll my eyes. “Where is he anyway? It’s getting late.”
We don’t come into Leo’s space often; he’s usually camped out in ours, and after what happened yesterday morning, I’m not sure how eager I’ll be to wander over here alone again.
So…naturally, I snoop.
“Hey.” I pick up a picture frame from the console. “I’ve never seen this one.”
I remember it though…
It’s one of me, Camila, Addie, and Leo.
Nate glances over my shoulder. “You all looked so happy.”
“We didn’t look happy, we were happy.”
We were celebrating my twenty-first birthday.
We’d been gallivanting around downtown, everyone acting extra ridiculous, trying to cheer me up because Mason was in the playoffs and couldn’t make it to New York that weekend.
In the photo, we were standing in the middle of McDougal Street. It was a Saturday night, the streets were packed, the bars were loud and crowded, and the city was alive; you could feel the buzz around you at all times.
We were most definitely blocking traffic with our arms hanging around each other, falling into one another, laughing so loudly I can almost hear it now.
Our heels were criminally high, our feet were screaming, and not one of us cared.
Torture in the grandest, most glamorous way.
Nate had taken the picture.
And not two seconds later, he tripped over a sewer grate and ripped his pant leg clean down the middle.
We laughed so hard Camila literally peed herself, and I still have the tiny scar on my knee from when I collapsed onto the pavement in hysterics.
We pre-gamed at Camila’s new apartment that night, hit the Comedy Cellar, and somehow got a surprise set from Dave Chappelle.
Then dinner in the Meatpacking District, where we nearly broke our ankles navigating cobblestones in stilettos.
We danced on tables when the DJ came on.
Met Seb and Harrison at a nightclub.
Got treated like absolute queens.
We didn’t get home until five in the morning. It was so unlike me, but Camila always knew how to break me out of my shell.
We had the best times together.
I set the photo back down, making a mental note to get a copy, then wander deeper into Leo’s penthouse.
I peek at his latest drawings for the Triple project, skimming the stack of books in the corner.
Leo’s always loved to read.
Next to the books, I see a neat pile of pink envelopes.
What the hell? Does he get fan mail or something?
Wouldn’t put it past him. He’s always had a gravitational pull toward the crazy girls.
Without even trying, they always fell head over heels for him.
Glancing over my shoulder, I make sure the guys aren’t there and flicker through them and immediately regret it.
They are all labeled with names I know…of people I love…in a handwriting I’m very familiar with.
“What is this?” My heart thunders against my chest.
“What, babe?” Nate calls out.
“Nathaniel…come here. Now.”
His footsteps echo in my ear as he gets closer, and I hold up the pink envelope with my name written in cursive. “Wh-hat is this?”
Leo walks in at the exact same moment, and his face falls.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
My head snaps toward him. “What is this?!” I demand, louder than I mean to, but after today, my nerves are completely shot.
I don’t care if I sound unhinged.
I want to know why there is a letter in Leo’s living room…
With my name on it.
In my best friend’s handwriting.
My best friend who has been dead for seven years.
Leo approaches slowly and guides me down onto the couch with him.
“She wrote letters to everyone she loved,” he says carefully. “And for some reason, she left them with me to hand out.”
Some of the panic drains from my chest.
But not all of it.
“This is for me?”
He dips his head, then glances at Nate before looking back at me.
“I fucked up,” he admits quietly. “I’m so sorry, Maddie. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix this.”
My stomach twists. “What are you talking about?”
He stands, walks back to the pile, and pulls out two more envelopes, both with Nate’s name on them.
“She left instructions on when each letter should be delivered,” Leo explains.
“Nate was supposed to get his when you two got back together. Or the other envelope, this year, ten years after the breakup, if you weren’t a couple yet.
” He exhales slowly. “It wasn’t until recently, when I pulled them out, that I realized your letter was stuck to the back of Nate’s. ”
Oh.
My fingers tighten around the envelope.
“Can I read it?”
“I was supposed to give that to you seven years ago…when Claudina was born.” His voice roughens. “I didn’t realize, Maddie. I’m so fucking sorry.”
My heart softens immediately.
I reach over and pat his knee gently. “It was an accident.”
Then, with careful fingers, I slide the envelope open, making sure not to tear it.
Madeline Grace Cunningham,
God, Maddie…where do I even start?
The starting part has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and you know I’ve survived tequila nights in some sketchy situations.
(I hope you’re smiling now, because I’m about to start crying while writing the rest of this.)
I was smiling…
There’s something I need to say first, and I need you to hear it with that big, forgiving heart of yours.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the cancer came back. If anyone deserved the truth, it was you, because you were never just my best friend, you were my sister in every way that mattered.
But when I found out I was pregnant with Claudina…something in me shifted.
I didn’t want you giving me a soft, pitying look you get when your heart starts breaking.
I wanted you to celebrate with me.
I wanted to stay your Camila, glowing with pregnancy, not dying of cancer. I wanted you to see the real me, your dramatic, over-the-top, excited-about-becoming-a-mom bestie.
Not the girl everyone was quietly preparing to lose.
The family saw the changes, the exhaustion, the reality of it. But with you, I just wanted to be me. And I was selfish enough to want to keep that.
I’ve gone back and forth a thousand times while writing this, wondering if I made the wrong choice. Truthfully? I probably did. Because the one thing that hurts my heart the most as I write this is knowing I didn’t give you the chance to say goodbye.
So if there’s any part of you that feels hurt, shut out, or angry with me…
I understand.
And I hope with everything in me that one day you can forgive me.
Jeez, how depressing am I?
Enough of the heavy stuff. Tell me something, Maddie…
Are you in New York?
The tears are flowing down my cheeks, but I smile, nodding my head.
Because if you are, I’m smiling so big right now.
I hope you’re there, building your beautiful life exactly the way you always dreamed. I hope your name is attached to buildings that make people stop and stare.
You were always meant for big things.
I hope you go to all the places we used to talk about, the ones we swore we’d see together. Mykonos. Barcelona. A yacht trip down the Amalfi, where you wouldn’t have to wear a life vest, and where I absolutely would have spent too much money and blamed the champagne.
If you haven’t gone yet…go for me.
Live loudly for me. Say yes to the adventures for me.
And for the love of God, you better do it with my brother.
There’s one more thing.
By the time you read this, you probably already know I asked the boys to make you Claudina’s godmother. I know you have a funny relationship with religion, but to me, it was more for you to have an important title in her life.
My only sister, the kind of woman I want shaping my daughter’s life.
So when she drives you crazy one day, because she will, remember she’s mine, and my free spirit lives inside of her.
I love you bigger than words, Maddie Grace.
Always have.
Always will.
Love you,
Camila
“I was expecting to be sobbing.” I wipe the tears, but the smile on my face is larger than I expected. “I felt like she was reading the words to me.”
“Like she was in the room with us,” Nate adds, and Leo and I both nod.