Page 51 of Flirt

“Alright.” I joined her on the couch and slid my finger under the flap, breaking the seal. I slipped the folded paper out, and after unfolding it, I began to silently read. At the same time, Gabriella laid her head on my shoulder.

To the 2nd luckiest man,

Before I get into the heart of the letter, let me tell you why you are the second luckiest man. It’s simple really, I was the first to experience life with Gabriella and to be loved by her.

I would hope you know the whole story by now. But I wouldn’t be shocked if you don’t because Gabs hasn’t mentioned any of it to you. Which you will learn, if you hadn’t already, that she tends to keep things close to her chest. Since you are reading this, the two of you have grown close enough that Gabs feels she’s ready for the next step with you.

Congrats. You will never meet a woman better than her. Which you wouldn’t have if I hadn’t died. She was meant to be my future, but evidently, I wasn’t meant to be hers. Cherish her and give her everything I had hoped to.

Anyway, back to the story. I was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor and given six months to live. It had come as a huge surprise. One I could have done without honestly.

A few days later, after that terrific news, we found out Gabriella was pregnant. Instead of celebrating and moving our wedding up, I had it canceled. I knew Gabs only went along because she thought I would change my mind once the shock of everything wore off. But my mind had never been clearer when I made the decision.

My refusal to discuss names for the upcoming baby whose life I would never be a part of. The child I would only be a name on a birth certificate or the man in pictures and stories others told him or her about. I just couldn’t do that to him or her. Every child deserves a father in their life, not only a memory of one.

As you are reading this, you are probably thinking ‘what an asshole’; don’t feel bad. Her family members have already labeled me as one. Hell, maybe I am. Does it really matter? I mean, considering as I write this, I’m almost out of time. It is what it is, and I have long since come to terms with it. If the decisions I have made are wrong, I will have an eternity to regret each of them.

Four months into my death sentence, I’m sitting in a chair composing this letter and watching Gabriella sleep. Today was long and hard with a single bright spot in the middle: the sonogram that revealed the baby we made is a girl—a daughter. The daughter I will never get to see, hold, or love—the one who will never know how my arms feel while holding her. Or hear my whispered words as I rock her to sleep.

I’m hoping and praying that you have fallen in love with her as much as you have Gabs. Because I want you to be the one to give her the comfort of a dad.

As a dying man, I am going to believe you will, so thank you. Thanks for accepting her as yours and taking on the role I couldn’t fill for her. Also, I want you to share your name with her and make her part of your family.

I’m going to thank you for all the times you will pick her up when she falls.

Hold onto her as she cries.

Slay every monster for her.

Give advice to her that only a father can.

Protecting her until the day comes when another man vows to take the job over for you. And even then, as you step back and place her hand in his, it will be as her dad because you will hold the knowledge that you will always be the first man she fell in love with. A gift I wish would have extended to me.

Mostly, though, thanks for loving her and Gabs enough. I know that if she is anything like her mother, you will be blessed more than you could imagine.

I don’t feel the need to tell you what a remarkable woman Gabriella is. You have gotten this far, so you have to know.

I will end this by asking you to take care of them both. I assure you that being with Gabs will make you a better man—it sure did me.

Justin Sawyer

Luckiest Man #1

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope and set it on the side table, then I put an arm around Gabriella’s shoulder and pulled her closer to me. With her head now resting against my chest, she wiped at the tears running down her cheeks. Neither of us spoke. We sat quietly, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts.

For me, Justin’s words only solidified everything I already knew. If Gabriella and I were lucky enough to have more children, Sawyer would never have a reason to feel like she didn’t belong or wasn’t truly part of my family. She would be my daughter, the one who would hold a special place in my heart. She belonged to me as if I had been a part of her creation. As much mine as the woman who sat beside me and the man who wrote a letter asking me to assume the role he never got to fulfill.

At that moment, if I had been able to talk to Justin, I would have told him he hadn’t needed to tell me what being with Gabriella would do to me. I was already on the road to being a better man because she had walked into my life when I least expected and needed her the most.

I touched my lips to the top of Gabriella’s head, then turned my head and rested my cheek against the spot I had kissed.

“Well, I guess I’m going to have to do better than just asking you to move in here with Sawyer,” I said and had to lift my head when Gabriella started to bend hers back so she could look up at me.

“What are you talking about?” she asked, and I leaned down and planted a kiss on the wrinkled spot between her brows caused by her frown once again.

“Well, I’m thinking the woman who is going to make a home with me should, at the very least, have the same last name as my daughter and me. In fact, I’m going to have to insist on it.”

She stared at me and blinked a few times before her expression changed, and her dark eyes showed a glimmer of humor. “Hmm...you realize in this day and time lots of women marry but keep their maiden names instead of taking their husband’s. And then some never marry, they just live together.”

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