“Come on.” Elias rose to his feet with a grunt. “You’re going to climb that hill with me, Josephine De Clare. And if we die—which I think is probable due to our lack of conditioning—then at least we’ll die wheezing. Laughing. I meant laughing.”
“You might be the dearest friend I’ve ever had,” Josephine said, her nose reddening.
“Are you with me?” Elias offered his hand. Despite his want to stay near Josephine, he wouldn’t prevent her from returning to Sebastian. He’d do what she needed, be who she wanted, forget himself so she could find her own joys. That was the love he chose.
Love that did what was right even when it hurt.
Josephine laced her fingers around his palm. She looked at him in a new way, and his resolution faded into the background. Attraction was not seen—it was sensed. And Elias sensed it like coming rain. He’d need to prove himself worthy of her, overcome countless obstacles. But hope drew back the curtains of his gloom and let the light shine bright again.
THIRTEEN
JOSIE
From: Faith Moretti <[email protected]>
Sent: Thursday, July 20, 1:10 PM
To: Josie De Clare <[email protected]>
Subject: DID YOU CUT ME OUT?!
Josie, I called you, like, a gazillion times. I thought about faking my death so you’d feel horrible. But I couldn’t stay off social media long enough. And Noah said I was overreacting—what most dudes say when they want their girlfriends to murder them. Oh, we’re back together. You would’ve known that a week ago if you’d answered my texts, calls, FaceTimes, and DMs.
I don’t understand why you need space from me. We had plenty of space until you asked for less space. Then we became friends again, and I still respected your space. Heck, there’s a whole ocean of space between us. What’s going on? Please talk to me.
You promised to let people care about you, so I can’t fathom why you’d push me away, especially after what happened last time. You knew what you did hurt me. You apologized, and I forgave you. But here we are, back where we started.
Did I tell you how I learned about your dad’s passing? You didn’t call or text me. No, I heard the news from Headmistress Poston. She came into our residence hall. (I was alone in our room. You’d returned home weeks before that.) She informed all the girls of Mr. De Clare’s death and asked us to pray for you. Don’t you understand how that made me feel? Your dad was yours, but I loved him too. I didn’t get to say good-bye. You took that from me.
At this point I’m not sure whether to yell at you via voicemail or be worried. If I had Oliver’s phone number, I would call him. Already I searched for his profiles on social media but couldn’t find an account. Josie, email me so I know you’re all right.
Please don’t cut me out.
Noah and I went on a date last Wednesday. He took me to a building near Radio City Music Hall with the best rooftop view. We sat in metal lawn chairs—the super redneck kind—and drank blue raspberry slushies while the city flickered. New York resembled a million television screens, each displaying a sitcom of someone’s life.
We seemed like ourselves again, maybe because the location was so informal. Noah said he wanted a future with me. He asked if we could dream together, find common ground, and I said yes. Our plan is to finish college before we consider marriage.
I wanted to share the news with you that night. I expected to call you and hear the excitement in your voice. But you didn’t pick up the phone. And I felt robbed. Maybe I am overreacting. I mean, Noah thinks you’re busy or got sucked into the whole Elias drama.
Let me care, Josie. Please respond.
Faith
(Sent from iPhone)
From: Josie De Clare <[email protected]>
Sent: Thursday, July 20, 9:22 PM
To: Faith Moretti <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: DID YOU CUT ME OUT?!
Elias wrote about me, Faith. I see myself up close, but he saw the bigger picture. He loved me before I knew me. He understood the emotions I feel but cannot put into words.
For years we envied the girls in romcoms. We hoped guys would look at us like that—like we were beautiful and one of a kind. You found Noah, but I had no one. Until now. Now I’m that girl, and I won’t pretend it doesn’t matter. Something fantastical happened to me. Two hundred years ago, a man fell in love with someone, and that someone—or at least her twin—found his letters centuries later. Elias and I were meant for each other. I must continue to search for his book even if you think I’m crazy because . . . I feel him like a sharp pain in my side.
This past month, I spent every afternoon in his study. I examined his letters, rummaged through his belongings. I fell asleep in his reading chair, and I heard his voice in the dead of night. But it wasn’t him. It was the wind. And I cried because his absence felt like loss even though I never had the pleasure of calling him mine.
His manuscript ended after the fourth chapter. Oliver contacted a friend at the University of Edinburgh who may be able to locate the full story. We haven’t heard back yet, but we’re on a mission to find the book. Elias wouldn’t have left it unfinished. He would’ve brought his character and Josephine together, given them a happy ending.
I need to read the whole manuscript.
Do you remember when I threw up on Dr. Kleinman? I pretended to have the flu so I could dodge classes. The embarrassment was too much, worse than when I accidentally flashed my knickers at the school recital. I didn’t want to show my face anywhere.
Not talking to you wasn’t
