Chapter 18
Now
The morning after The Boat Ride That Changed Everything, I wake up to a long text from Ryder.
Good morning Scarlett,
Yesterday feels like a dream. It’s surreal, to finally have said the things I’ve wanted to say to you for ten years.
I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance. I know it’s cliché to say “a weight has been lifted,” but I don’t think I realized just how heavy this burden has been until now.
I feel hopeful in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. I hope that doesn’t scare you.
I know last night was probably a lot for you.
I don’t want to overwhelm you, or presume your feelings match my own.
I meant what I said, that I’d like to get to know you again, at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.
I have to warn you though, I’m already super into Scarlett 2.
0, maybe even more than the OG version (apparently, I have a type).
You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me, you always have been.
You’re the one I’ve measured all others against. It’s been torture, knowing you were out there but out of my reach.
I don’t know how I’ve lived without you for ten years when right now ten hours apart feels like too much.
I hate how much time I’ve wasted, but maybe I needed it to grow up some, to be the best version of myself for you.
I like to think I’m new and improved, or maybe just old and improved?
I’m definitely hairier, as you pointed out.
Hopefully old and hairy is just what you’ve been searching for. The total package.
I’ve had a lot of sleepless nights over the years.
Sometimes when I couldn’t sleep I’d pick a memory, like that boat ride through Cypress Gardens or one of our lazy Sundays at the beach, and travel back in time, remember what it felt like when we were happy, when everything felt simple.
I used to wonder if you were in bed somewhere, thinking about me too.
Now here I am lying awake again, but instead of reliving the past, I’m looking forward to the future.
I never thought I’d get the chance to make new memories with you.
I’m simultaneously excited and terrified because I don’t think you realize how much power you have over me. Please go easy on me.
I’m realizing pouring my heart out might be a lot for 7 AM, but now that I’ve opened the floodgates, I’m not sure I can stop.
It actually feels good to talk to you this way, even if you’re not talking back.
Somewhere for all my feelings to go after all this time.
Probably should have tried this ten years ago instead of burying myself in the bottle. Hindsight.
I swear I’m not always this angsty. This entire week I’ve felt like I was crawling out of my skin, like if I didn’t get to talk to you I was going to explode.
When you opened the door that first night, I honestly thought I was going to pass out.
My trainer makes me wear one of those stupid tracker watches, and it thought I was having a medical emergency.
You triggered an “unusual cardiac event.” I hope you’re happy.
I guess I’ll end this here before I really do scare you off. Tonight’s our last event, the benefit concert. Can I take you? I’d love to show you my house after (and that isn’t meant to be a euphemism) (unless you want it to be).
Ryder
I laugh, swiping tears from my cheeks, and send Kendall a text: Can you talk? SOS
I only have to wait a minute before the phone rings in my hand. “What happened?”
“I have to tell him,” I say tearfully. “I have to tell him and I don’t know how and I’m afraid it’s going to ruin everything.”
There’s a short pause. “What the heck happened since yesterday morning?”
I fill her in while she listens quietly—about the plane, and dinner on his boat, his life in Seafolly, and when I get to the part about us kissing, she gasps. By the time I finish reading her his text-slash-love-letter, she’s openly sniffling.
“Tell me the truth—is this a terrible idea? Am I crazy to think we could make this work again?”
“No, you’re not crazy,” she says with a soggy laugh. “After a letter like that? Scarlett, the man is begging at your feet. Please put the poor guy out of his misery.”
I stare out the window at the restless sea, the current of unrest in my chest rising and falling with the tide. “Yesterday you said you didn’t want me to backslide.”
“Does this feel like backsliding to you? To me, it sounds like you’re finally moving forward.”
I’m quiet for a moment, taking that in.
“Look, you said it yourself—you’ve never really gotten over him.
You’ve had this ‘what if’ in your head for ten years, Scarlett.
And clearly, he has too. There’s a reason neither of you have ended up with other people.
” I can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m rooting for you guys. I’m Team Ryde or Die.”
I close my eyes. “How do I tell him, Ken?” I whisper.
“You’ll find a way.” Her voice softens. “You need to forgive yourself. You were young, you were overwhelmed. You did the best you could.”
“He’ll hate me. I’d hate me.”
“You don’t know that. And if he’s matured the way you say he has, I think he might surprise you. Give him a chance,” she says gently. “I know you’re scared, and I understand why. But I’m actually excited for you. You deserve to set down your own burden. It’s time.”
Salty tears roll down my face. “I’m sorry I hung up on you yesterday,” I blubber, overwhelmed by emotion.
“You should be.” I snort through my snuffling. “To make it up to me, I’d like you to pinch Jason’s butt for me.”
Now I’m laughing through my tears. “Leave me out of your weird little situationship, okay? Besides, you should be here to pinch his butt yourself.”
“I’m playing the long game,” she says breezily. “And just you wait—one day that man will wake up and realize I’m the best thing that never happened to him.”
When I hang up the phone, I sit down and draft a response to his text.
Ry,
I loved your love letter. It made me cry. You are definitely older and improved, and I love your beard. Please don’t ever shave it.
To answer your question, I have lain awake many nights thinking of you, wishing things were different and missing you so much I could hardly breathe.
We may have lived without each other for ten years, but you’ve always been with me, Ry.
Even when I tried to move on, some part of me never could.
I learned to live with a broken heart, and it might take me a little time to let you all the way in again. Please be patient with me.
Back then so many things felt unsteady, like we built our foundation on quicksand.
For years I told myself we were too young, that we were in over our heads, and maybe that was true.
But if I could go back, I’d have more faith in us, and especially in you.
I’m sorry I didn’t. I never expected to meet this version of you: master of sea and sky, early retiree, hot homemaker.
Sober and stable. The life you’ve built looks good on you.
I’m so proud of you, Ry. Your mom would be too.
I have a lot more to say, but I’ll save it for in person. I’d love to go with you to the concert tonight. Pick me up around 5?
?
Scarlett
That afternoon, I go for a long walk on the beach, getting my thoughts in order for the night ahead, sorting through everything I want to say.
It’s surreal to think that the conversation I never planned to have is suddenly right in front of me, and while the fear is still there, it’s softened by something else: hope.
I decide to cancel the hair and makeup team Samira set up for me, electing to protect my peace and get ready by myself instead.
Staying on theme, my stylist had picked a stunning ruby-red dress for this week’s capstone event: soft chiffon, light and airy, with fluttering sleeves and a dramatic open back.
It feels bold yet romantic, like I’m stepping into the fearless version of myself I used to be.
I apply my makeup, making sure to send selfies to Kendall for her approval, and do my best to coax my curls into something resembling soft, vintage-inspired waves.
Tonight we’ll attend the benefit concert, where legendary singer Sierra Wilder will perform “Star-Crossed,” the soaring power ballad that played over the movie’s end credits, spent eight weeks at number one, and helped catapult The Lost Letter into one of the best-selling soundtracks of all time.
It’s a song I’ve never been able to listen to without crying.
Tonight, I’ll listen to it while holding Ryder’s hand.
Maybe if we have a perfect, romantic night beforehand, he won’t hate me.
When I hear his knock at the door, I look in the mirror and take a deep, cleansing breath. “Have faith in him,” I say quietly.
When I swing open the door, my breath catches in my chest. He’s blindingly handsome, a silver-screen dream airbrushed into real life.
His blond hair’s been styled by the angels, his burnished brown eyes weaponized in a lethal gleam.
But it’s his smile—beaming and boyish and unguarded, the same one I fell for all those years ago—that stirs up every feeling I’ve spent years trying to suppress.
The intensity of what I feel for him wraps around me, stealing the air from my lungs.
I let my eyes travel over him, drinking him in like I’m dying of dehydration.
His navy blue suit is tailored to perfection, his collared shirt crisp enough to cut glass, skimming against a jaw that could do the same.
His tanned collarbone draws my eyes like a magnet, tempting me more than dessert ever could.
That collarbone should come with a safe word.
It’s only when my gaze drifts down his torso that I see he’s holding a bouquet of flowers.
Violets.
Shock, grief, and heartbreak slam into me all at once, pummeling me like a rogue wave I’m not fast enough to brace against. It drags me under, spins me around until I can’t tell up from down or dark from light. I’m tumbling, lost in it, every emotion crashing over me before I can catch my breath.
My vision blurs and I start to sway, the world fading at the edges. The last thing I hear is him calling my name as I faint dead away.