You pushed me out of my comfort zone. You got on with my grandparents so well. Better than well. I’m convinced they fell in love with you before I did. Speaking of which . . .
I realized I loved you, like very much head over heels, that night we watched Dracula in Pop and Granny’s living room. You fell asleep on my shoulder with chocolate smeared in the corner of your mouth. You wore my blue hoodie, the one you stole after I misplaced it in your kitchen. And as I held you (while Dracula escorted a bloke up a cobwebbed staircase), I made a promise to myself to love you even if you never loved me back.
Your search for the end of Elias’s book presented an opportunity. I decided to finish the novel because it’s what you needed. During secondary school I dabbled in creative writing. My English teacher and I were close, so I read all the assigned classics. Did you have a similar experience? For some reason it’s like every interesting person I meet was friends with their English teacher.
Anyway, I spent a solid month in my bedroom. I came up with the worst excuses as to why I couldn’t hang out with you. Remember when I said I got the sheep flu? Yeah, there’s no such thing as sheep flu, and shearing isn’t half as difficult as I made it out to be.
Once I finished the book, my history-buff mate helped me polish the writing to match Elias’s voice. I didn’t want to give you the chapters, not really, because I knew you would believe they were from Elias and you’d friend-zone me even more.
And because I thought my writing was literal rubbish. No pun intended.
Watching you fall for him was the hardest part. I almost told you the truth after the Halloween party, but then I remembered the promise I made to myself. You were my best friend, and being friends was great. I didn’t want to jeopardize that.
My inspiration for such angsty martyrdom came from Elias. We both resolved to love the person we didn’t think could love us back. We prepared to watch that person live without us. And look how it all panned out. Not quite as we planned. Not horrible either.
To be honest, I thought you’d be disappointed if you knew I had written the chapters. You didn’t seem to like me like that, but I liked you like that, and the novel made it clear Elias liked Josephine like that. So yeah, of course, you should’ve liked Elias. Made sense.
How in blazes can I compare to Sir Elias Catesby Roch?
I write all this not to sound insecure or pathetic, but to tell you I’m convinced everything—from start to finish to beyond that—was worth it. Elias set a high standard, and I don’t plan to compete with him. We both love Josephine De Clare. He loved Josephine first. I aim to love you much longer.
For that reason, I can consider Elias a friend.
So many people waste time waiting for good things to happen to them. But sometimes we need to make good things happen. And when we finally start doing that, we often see there were good things in our lives all along.
I suppose I finished the novel to show you the good. I thought if you found hope in your own happy ending, then perhaps you’d fancy me. Of course, that seemed unlikely then. I just wanted to see you happy, to hear you laugh and dream about the future and know people loved you regardless of where they were in time. You’re loved. That’s all I really wanted to say.
You have a story, Josie De Clare. A flipping wonderful story. And I want to be a part of it for as long as you let me, because this—what’s happening between us—is better than fiction. Real. This is real. Us sharing earbuds on train commutes. Going for seaside picnics with the knitting club. Staying on the phone well past midnight to chat about school and work and Pop’s recent obsession with Harry Styles.
After reading Elias’s work, I’ve decided there aren’t ends, just beginnings. And I want every beginning in the world with you.
How’s that for my first attempt at a love letter? Shall I write more? I can’t be Elias Roch, but I’m here, and I choose you.
What do you say? Are you up for more of this?
Oliver
June 13
Dearest Oliver . . .
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
(Credits)
Although novels don’t end like films, I wish to roll credits and lead a standing ovation for the people who made this book possible.
Jesus. You are the reason I write. Thank You for not giving me what I wanted when I wanted it. Thank You for saying no in preparation for Your best yes. This book is a testimony to Your goodness, faithfulness, and unmerited, unrestrained love. For the rest of my days, I’ll remember Bethel.
Kim Carlton, my brilliant editor and friend, who brought this story to life. You deserve your name on the cover for how much you guided this book. Elias and Oliver are who they are because of you.
Erin Healy, for magnifying Elias’s and Josie’s voices. You encouraged me more than you know.
Laura Wheeler, the mastermind behind this book’s design. Amanda, Kerri, and the rest of my Thomas Nelson/HarperCollins family. Words cannot express my gratefulness for you. Thanks for believing in my stories and welcoming me with open arms.
Tessa Hall, my literary agent and beloved friend, who championed Dearest Josephine from the beginning. You’ve been at my side through highs and lows, prayed for me during seasons of trials, and never wavered in your confidence. I think back to when we first met—both young adults with a passion for writing—and I praise God for how far we’ve come and grown together. May you find your Elias Roch
