Page 104 of When Love Is Unexpected

Dear Laila,

I don't know where to begin. I have so much to say that I should apologize in advance for the long email.

Let me start by saying that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for lying to you. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for ruining everything.

Patricia is such a distant part of my past that I wanted to leave her there. I didn't want to spend one single moment thinking about or talking about her. I thought if I ignored everything related to her, I'd never have to deal with her again. When she reappeared using a different name, I wanted her to be that person: Tricia Duncan, my pastor's daughter, my classmate, the reunion organizer, and an old friend—nothing more. That's where I went wrong.

By avoiding my past, I ruined my present and jeopardized our future.

You're the most important person in my life, and I should have valued our relationship enough not to leave anything out, no matter how distant or insignificant. So, I would like to start at the beginning.

I was a skinny, lanky, awkward, taller-than-average kid who loved pizza, math, computers, and basketball. I wore thick glasses and grew out of my pants faster than I could replace them, so highwaters were a constant part of my wardrobe throughout high school. I was popular because I was on the basketball team and because I was Patricia's boyfriend, not necessarily because I was attractive. Think Napoleon Dynamite, but taller. If this made you smile, it means you're still reading this, and I might still have a chance to make it up to you.

Patricia and I knew each other growing up because we went to the same school, and she was the pastor's kid at my church. My grandparents and Patricia's parents have known each other forever. When my grandparents moved and would come back to visit, the Duncans came to the house to see them, and they would bring Patricia. That's how I got to know her. She was beautiful, smart, and popular, and one day, she decided she wanted me. She was my first love, my first everything. She was an only child, spoiled and self-centered, but I didn't care. I was infatuated with her.

We became official during the summer before our junior year of high school when we went to Guatemala with our church youth group. That trip was a defining moment in my life. I learned some Spanish, met interesting people, enjoyed their culture, and thought the food was incredible. I became my own person, separate from my parents, my siblings, and my friends, but especially separate from Patricia. The more I loved who I was becoming, the more she resented me.

When the spring of the following year rolled around, we had to reserve our spot for the next trip to Guatemala. I had been looking forward to it for a whole year. I had saved all the money I made tutoring and teaching piano, and I had taken Spanish courses for six months in preparation for the trip. When Patricia told me she wasn't going, I didn't try to convince her to go. I never could've predicted the wrath she would unleash on me when I told her I was going without her. When her temper tantrums didn't dissuade me, she broke up with me.

Our breakup was almost a relief. I can't explain it. I thought we were over for good and I was okay with it. When Patricia found out I had taken a girl out on a date, she searched me out and begged for us to get back together. I gave in, but nothing was ever the same again. I think she pushed my buttons just to see how far she could go. When the topic of children came up, she told me in no uncertain terms that children were out of the question, so I decided to break up with her.

By that point, I saw no future with her. We were both in college, seeing less and less of each other, but we were still a couple. The night I went to her apartment to break up with her, I think she knew. She told me she was having second thoughts about having a family. She said she loved me, and you can imagine the rest. I walked out of that apartment feeling ashamed, more obligated, and committed to remaining in the relationship and marrying her.

Part of me wants to believe that she loves me and that she has changed. The other part knows better.

The boy who loved Patricia is not the man I am today. But more importantly, the man I am today loves another woman.

I love you, Laila.

Call me when you're ready to talk. I'll wait as long as it takes.

I miss you.

Sam

Chapter 25

Laila

I ring Loren's doorbell as I glance next door, wishing Sam was there waiting for me. I'm dressed in Petra's clothes, my feet hurt, and I need a shower. The second Aaron opens the door, I start bawling like a baby.

"Come in," he says, putting his arm around my shoulder.

Loren gives me a hug and walks to the kitchen, "I'm making you some tea," she says.

"Where's Holly?" I ask, not wanting her to see me like this.

"She's at Adam's," says Aaron. "Cry until you're done."

So I do. All the anger and sadness I've had bottled up inside me for the last eighteen hours spills out of me, a torrent of sobs and tears streaming down my face.

Aaron sits on the ottoman across from me, holding my hand. I can see the muscles in his jaw clenching as he does his best to remain quiet. Loren sits next to me, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a box of tissues in the other. I know she's dying to defend Sam, but she, too, remains silent.

An hour later, the tissue box is empty, and all I have left in me are annoying little hiccups I can't control.

"Do you want some more tea?" asks Loren. "Are you hungry?"

"No," I say. "Can I take a shower and sleep for a couple of hours?"

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