Page 145 of Doctorshipped
Jayme,
This is the last note I’m going to send you. Not the last note ever. I think I like writing them. They provide me a safe place to practice letting you in—something I very much want to do, but still feel like an incredible amateur at doing.
I imagine you reading these little disclosures, and hope they make you smile. If they do, I will keep writing you notes every day of our lives. If you give me a chance to be a part of your life from here forward, that is. I don’t want to presume that you are willing to give me another chance. I can only hope.
I have a surprise for you. I still loathe surprises. But, for you—I’ll do anything—including organizing a surprise. I know you love them. I actually remember you telling me there was no such thing as a bad surprise. I’m pretty certain your take on that has changed after Margot showed up. But, that’s not the point now. The point is, my surprise will be good—the kind you really like. And I hope you show up for it. I’ll text you details, but it’s happening tomorrow.
One last thing I want to tell you about me. I’m truly a grump. My grouchiness isn’t a defense mechanism, or a flaw I’ll grow out of.
I see the glass half-empty. It is, after all. It was filled and partially drained, and, by definition, that makes it half-empty. This whole half-full thing never made sense to me, as if that’s any better than being half-empty. We’re still dealing with an unsatisfying emptiness, no matter how we define it.
After all, life contains more than a fair share of pain and hardship—as both of us can attest to after having endured this last month. It’s downright ugly at times. People get sick, die, leave. We let one another down daily. No amount of floral-covered greeting cards can make up for the downsides and atrocities of life. They shouldn’t even bother trying. And this is who I am—a man who sees the world for what it is, and doesn’t expect more of it than it’s able to give me, or anyone.
The thing is, you didn’t heal this grump of his pessimism, but you shined light into my darkness. And I was happy with you. I laughed and smiled more in the time we shared together than I probably have ever in all my years combined.
You make me happy, Jayme. And that’s not your job. It’s just the natural impact you have by being you. You’re this radiant beam of sunlight. My fierce pixie, relentlessly seeing the good and making everything you touch shine a little more than it did before you came around.
And I miss being happy, because I miss you. I never missed happiness before. But I’m a changed man. I’m changed because you changed me. Of course, there’s Fee. She’s another undeserved ray of sunshine. It goes without saying what she means to me.
But she isn’t you.
Only you, Jayme. Only you.
Yours - Grant.
I reread the letter.Again. I read it three times and then I clutch it to my chest, looking back up at Grant’s house, where he sits just behind those windows in his office, looking all stern, and handsome, and vulnerable behind his desk. Why can’t I run to him right now?
I call Shannon. This is the point in a game show where the person is wise to tell the host, “I’d like to phone a friend. I need a lifeline, please.”
Shannon answers on the first ring. “Hey, beautiful, what’s up?”
“I’m outside Grant’s. He sent me another note. This time he had Fiona give it to me.”
I read her the note. We’re both bawling by the end.
“I want to go in to him now. Why am I waiting?”
“He said his surprise is tomorrow.”
“Right?”
“So, I think you should wait.”
“You do?”
“I really do.”
“Wait! Do you know what it is?”
“Mayyybe.”
“You know! Does everyone know?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Oh my gosh! You all know!”
“But, isn’t that a good thing? Us knowing?”
