Dirty Letters by Vi Keeland
EPILOGUE
LUCA
Two Years Later
Dear Luca,
You would think after all these years . . . after all the letters I’ve written you, this one would come easily. But somehow, I feel like a thirteen-year-old boy again, afraid to tell the girl he’s falling in love with how he feels. A lot has changed since then. I’ve been inside of you. I’ve gotten to love you in ways I never thought possible. And yet . . . it feels like yesterday that I was just that boy in London waiting for the next letter to come. I could have never imagined the journey life would take us on to get to where we are today. Your bravery in pushing through your fears not only inspires me but proves every day just how much you love me. You letting me hold your hand while you white-knuckle your way through life with me, letting the fear do its worst so that we can be together, is the ultimate proof of your love.
Before Mum died, she told me that her greatest wish for me was that I would someday find someone who loved me as much as she did. It brings me great joy knowing that she’s looking down at me right now and seeing that I have. She can rest in peace knowing I’m loved and cared for. And I hope your father and Doc are looking down right now and thinking the same thing—knowing that their girl is cherished. I’m so happy to be the man who gets to love you. Over the past couple of years, you’ve proven that you would do anything for me. And I want you to know that I would do anything for you. I’d die for you, Luca. You’re the only person I can honestly say that about. Bloody hell, could this letter BE any sappier? (I had to bring Chandler Bing from Friends back for the occasion.) Sappy or not . . . there is just no other way to convey it. Luca Vinetti, my love for you is greater than the sun, the moon, and the stars. It knows no bounds. Our story is not one that fairy tales are made of . . . it’s raw and real but the truest kind of love nevertheless. I was wondering if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife. Marry me, Luca. When you’re done reading this letter, you’re going to look up at me, and then I’m going to drop to one knee. I’m going to ask you again to marry me. If you say yes, you’ll make me the happiest guy on earth. If you say no, I’ll love you anyway, and it won’t matter whether there’s a ring on your finger to prove it. I love you, Luca. From now until eternity.
Your love,
Griffin
P.S. Please say yes.
P.P.S. Marry Mee-Mee.
I folded the letter and closed my eyes, remembering the day Griffin had proposed a year ago. We’d been roaming the country in the RV after he’d returned from his European tour. While Griffin was away in Europe, Doc died suddenly of a heart attack. I’d gone to check on him in his tiny house and found him in bed unconscious. It was the second most difficult moment of my life and really proved just how much strength I had. Because I never would have thought I could have survived finding him like that. But I just knew I had to be strong for him, that he would never want to be the source of my grief. I owed it to Doc to put his own teachings to good use when it came to losing him.
Right after Doc died, Griffin flew back from Europe to be with me, citing a family emergency. The tour was put on hold until we had some time to properly grieve. After he returned to Europe and finished the last couple of postponed shows, he came back to Vermont. That was when our new life began as we took to the open road with Hortencia in tow. It was during that trip, parked somewhere in Florida, that Griffin had handed me his proposal letter before getting down on one knee. Of course, I said yes.
Now, one year later, we were home in Los Angeles on the morning of our wedding day. Griff had agreed to get ready in the RV so that I could have some privacy. We planned to do photos before the ceremony. So he’d be seeing me soon.
With the entire second floor of our home to myself, I was taking this time to enjoy the peace and quiet—aside from Hortencia’s occasional oinking. While I’d made a few friends out here, I chose not to have any bridesmaids. There was no one who could replace Izzy today; she was here in spirit as my maid of honor. The ceremony would be small, just some of our closest friends. Griffin’s dad flew in from London with his new wife. I knew that was stressful for Griff, but I was proud of him for taking that step in inviting him.
Our wedding would be taking place at the Dr. Chester Maxwell Aviary here in Los Angeles. Griffin had given them a sizable donation, and they’d renamed it in Doc’s memory. This was a very emotional day for me, far more than I’d ever imagined. The two men who I would have wanted to walk me down the aisle—my father and Doc—were both gone. So Griffin would be doing the honors.
I opened the window to let some fresh air in before I would have to put on my dress. In my silk robe, I stared up at the clear California sky and took a deep breath in.
It was then that I noticed a red cardinal perched on the wrought iron balcony. Of course, any time a bird would so much as fly by me, it would make me think of Doc. But there was something different about this one. It wasn’t flitting around or chirping like the other birds that roamed around the garden. It was stoic. This one just seemed to be staring at me.
“Hello,” I said.
It tilted its head in response.
I specifically remembered Doc saying something about the red cardinal, how people often believed they were messengers from lost loved ones.
I’d expected it to fly away, but instead it flew toward me and landed on the windowsill right next to me. My eyes began to well up with tears, mainly for how pathetic I was in hoping that this was somehow Doc sending me a message—or Doc himself. I wanted to believe more than anything that this little bird was him. But I would never know. I just started to cry.
I imagined where my life would be without Doc and without Griffin. It was ironic, because were it not for Doc, I might never have reconnected with Griffin, because the California trip wouldn’t have happened. And without Griffin, I couldn’t imagine how I would have dealt with losing Doc—the only family I had left. I was so lucky to have had such important men in my life who’d impacted me in profound ways.
“Hello, friend,” I said to the bird. “I’m going to pretend that it’s you. Because it makes me happy to think that you might have transformed into one of the creatures that were so beloved to you. But most of all, I want to believe that you’re here with me today, where you should be. You would have walked me down the aisle, you know.” I wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry I never got to say goodbye to you. But I know you’re here with me still. When I’m scared, I still hear your voice cheering me on. I carry you everywhere. Because of you I am, Chester Maxwell.”
The bird suddenly flew away. No goodbye. No warning. Nothing. Then again, that’s how it went, didn’t it?
There was a knock at the door. “Yes?” I wiped my eyes.
“Hi, Miss Vinetti. Is it safe to come in?”
It was the photographer, Leah.
I opened the door. “Hi. Yes. I just have to touch up my eye makeup and slip into my dress. Would you mind helping me?”
“Not at all.”
While I would have much rather had my mother or Izzy here to zip up the back of my gown instead of Leah, I took solace in the fact that I would be with Griffin soon, and these feelings of loneliness would then be replaced by the joy of our wedding day.
After I was dressed, Leah took some photos of me looking in the mirror as I redid my makeup.
It was now time to meet Griffin outside.
“Mr. Archer asked for you and him to have some privacy in the courtyard before pictures start. So I’ll capture the moment he sees you and then disappear for about ten minutes before coming back to take your outdoor photos.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
When I emerged from the house into the yard, Griffin’s back was facing me as he stood under a jacaranda tree.
“Griffin?”
When he turned around and got a look at me, he immediately started crying. I’d rarely seen Griffin cry—not happy tears, at least. But there was certainly no bigger proof of his love for me than to witness them falling from his eyes right now.
“You look even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”
“Thank you. And you look so handsome.” I adjusted his boutonniere and patted his chest. “I love that vest.” I felt like I should have been crying, but I think I was all cried out. That didn’t mean I wasn’t happy beyond belief right now.
I noticed that Griffin was holding a small gift bag.
“What’s in the bag?”
“I wasn’t sure if you had something old, something borrowed, something blue . . .”
“I hadn’t even remembered that tradition.” I smiled. “I don’t, actually. You got me covered?”
“I got you covered.” He winked, then took the first item out of the bag. “Something old,” he said as he took out a silver locket. “This belonged to my mother. When I inherited it after she died, it was empty. So I took the photo you have of Izzy and had a copy made of it that was just the right size to fit inside.”
Okay, now I was crying.
As he placed it around my neck, I said, “My makeup is going to be ruined.”
“We’ll fix it.”
There was nothing Griffin couldn’t fix or make better.
My heart raced in anticipation as he pulled out the next item.
“Something borrowed,” he said before opening a velvet box. In it were the most stunning diamond earrings from Harry Winston. Those had to have cost a fortune.
“Oh my God. These are exquisite.”
“I hope you really like them. You don’t have to wear them if you don’t.”
“I do.” I smiled. “I really do. Thank you.”
I took out the smaller diamond studs I’d been wearing before he helped me put the new earrings on. They were gorgeous, dangling chandelier-style and likely cost as much as this wedding.
“Something blue.” He flashed a wicked smile before taking out a tiny Furby key chain. It was the one I’d left behind at his house during my first trip out to see him. It happened to be a royal-blue color. He’d added a little safety pin to the end. Bending down, he pinned it to the underside of my dress.
“That’s perfect.” I beamed.
“And we can use it until the battery runs out later.” He winked.
After he put the bag aside, I realized he’d skipped over “something new.”
“Isn’t one missing? Something new?”
“Yes, my love. But it’s not in the bag. It’s inside of you.”
Griffin knelt down and kissed my stomach.
The greatest reward for facing my fears was that he and I had made a little human. Four months along, I wasn’t showing enough to have to wear a maternity dress. Thankfully, the cut of the gown I’d chosen hid what small bump I had pretty well. But in only a matter of months, we would be welcoming a baby boy, who we planned to name Griffin Chester Marchese. And my life once again would be changed forever.
Was I terrified of becoming a mother? Absolutely. But I would dive headfirst into it and take everything as it came just as I had been trying to do with everything else. That approach had gotten me far. It had gotten me here to the most important day of my life.
Griffin took my hand as we walked through his garden, relishing this calm before the wedding.
“Best thing I ever did was answer your first letter, you know,” he said.
I squeezed his hand. “Best thing I ever did was send it.”
“Speaking of your first letter, I recently went through all my boxes and came across it. I’m holding it in my pocket today as my own ‘something old.’”
“Really?”
He reached inside and took it out before unfolding it.
Shock crossed his face. “My God.”
“What?”
“I never noticed this. Look at the date, Luca. Holy shit. Look at the date!”
It was today’s date—exactly twenty years ago.
My mouth hung open. “We’re getting married two decades to the day of the very first time I ever wrote you.”
“And we had no idea when we picked this date for our wedding. I’d say that’s pretty damn amazing.”
I had no recollection of what I’d written that very first time. I looked down at that fateful letter and smiled as I read it.
Dear Griffin,
You don’t know me, but my teacher gave me your name. I’m Luca. I think you’re looking for a pen pal? Would you want to be mine?
I’m seven, live in New York, love black licorice and dancing.
I would love to know what it’s like in England. Do you have black licorice there? I heard people drive on the opposite side of the road. That is so weird!
Your pen pal (?),
Luca
P.S. Mrs. Ryan showed me a list of kids, and I picked your name, Griffin Quinn. I don’t know why. Maybe because my mom watches that show Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. But you stuck out. It was just a feeling I had that you were it—my pen pal. My dad always says to trust your gut. My gut loves black licorice. And my gut tells me we’re going to be friends, Griffin. I really hope you write back.
