Nearing September

by Amber Thielman

  I love you. Don't forget what you have to do.

  And so, here I was—alone in the middle of the airport while I stood, uncertain, wondering who I should call now. Nick? What could I say to him now? Hey, remember me? We fucked a few times, I fell for you, and then I got engaged to my douche-bag ex and almost skipped the state. But I didn't, because my childish crush on you was too much to bear.

  I looked at my phone again, and then I dialed Nick's number, bracing myself for what was to come. I had no other choice. I was alone.

  “Nick,” I said. It wasn't a question, just a statement. He'd answered on the first ring, which surprised me, but I still had to fight to keep from crying when I heard his voice.

  “I'm sorry, Nick,” I said before he could speak again. “I fucked up.” There was a moment of silence, and I felt dread tug at my heart. He didn't want me back—he was still angry. Not that I could blame him. I had royally fucked everything up.

  “You did screw up,” he said flatly, and I caught my breath, hurt. I didn't know what I'd expected, but his tone was cold.

  “I realized my mistake just as soon as I said yes to Richard,” I said. I looked down at my left hand, at the finger that used to bear an engagement ring.

  “So what it is you're saying?” I asked. In the background, I heard an array of voices echo through the phone. Where in the hell was he? At work? At the beach? That wouldn't surprise me. I hadn't even heard from him since this morning.

  “I'm saying that I love you, Nick,” I said. I swallowed, the knot in my chest tightening. “I'm saying that I fell for you, hard, and I want to be with you.” I paused. “That is what I'm saying.” There was more silence, another deafening, thick silence that made me want to take back everything I'd just said.

  “That's curious,” he said nonchalantly, and I braced herself for the rejection. After another second of silence, I the line went dead. “That's curious,” he said for the second time, and I felt my entire body go rigid as I turned around and came face to face with him. Next to him, beaming, was Piper. I was silent as he stepped forward and rested his hand on my cheek. A jolt of electricity zapped through me, and I swallowed. I couldn't react. I could only stare at him and wonder if he was real.

  “Did you ever think,” he asked, his thumb on my chin, “that I might just love you, too?” He lifted my chin then, pressing his lips gently against mine. I melted into him, breathless. He smelled so good, so familiar. He smelled like Nick.

  “Are you guys in love or something?” Piper asked. Her face was earnest. I laughed, and so did Nick.

  “I've always loved your Uncle Nick differently,” I said after a moment. I looked from Piper and back to Nick. “You were my friend, despite all the fighting. I loved you like family—but it's different now. All I know is that when I'm with you, there's nowhere else in the world I'd rather be. I'm a different person when I'm with you, Nick—a better one. You are my better half.”

  “Sam,” Nick said finally. I braced myself, unable to look at him, ashamed and embarrassed. Maybe he did like me, but was that too much? Was I coming on too strong? God, I hated feeling so humiliated, especially by Nick! Damn him; he had once again hurt me—I should have been expecting it, predicted it.

  “Don't even say anything,” I said. I raised my hand up, shushing him. “I'm sorry, Nick. It must have been the stress of the day. I just—”

  “What’s with the interrupting?” he teased. I was surprised when he reached for me a second time, pulling my hands into his. “Sam,” he said again, and I could smell the stupid, sexy body spray and aftershave. “You are the biggest pain in my ass,” he said. I opened my mouth, offended, but he put his finger up to my lips, shaking his head. “You are a huge pain in the ass,” he said again. “You're stubborn and mean and ornery as shit—most days I want to strangle you.”

  “Nick, I don't understand why you're saying th—”

  “But even more than I want to strangle you, I want to kiss you,” Nick said. “More than I want to kiss you, I want to spend every waking moment with you. I want to wake up in the morning and see your face. I want to grow old with you. I want to have a family with you.” I caught my breath as I leaned in and kissed him, his thumb caressing my skin again.

  “Finally!” Piper cried, tugging on the back of Nick's shirt. When we finally parted, I looked down at Piper, curious.

  “Finally, what?” I asked. Nick and I both watched as Piper unzipped the bottom of her stuffed bear and shoved my hand into the stuffed animal. A moment later I pulled out two tiny folded pieces of paper.

  “What on earth is this?” I asked her before Nick could. “Hidden notes? Very clever.”

  “Yeah,” Piper said. She tucked the bear under one arm, and with her hands free, she unfolded the papers. “They're notes from my mommy” It took a moment for those words to sink in, but when they finally did, I felt my heart race again.

  “I don't understand,” I said, and Piper handed me one of the wrinkled papers. The other, she gave to Nick. I looked down at the paper in my hand, running my fingers over the indent made by a red pen—my name was on the front, scribbled in Emily's handwriting.

  “Yeah, what the hell is this?” Nick asked. He, too, was staring at my shred of paper as though it might implode. Piper sighed, clearly annoyed. “Just read it, Uncle Nick.”

  “These are from Emily?” I asked again. “These are from your mom before she died?”

  “Yes,” Piper said. She was smiling, that same innocent, child-like smile I had seen on her face so often before.

  “Have you read these?”

  “I’m seven,” Piper insisted. “Besides, Mom told me not to. She just asked me to keep them safe for you in Mr. Bear.”

  “Why now?” I asked. “Why not in the beginning?” When Piper didn't answer, only shrugged, I could almost see Emily in my mind now, sitting down at her office desk to write these letters, hunched over the table like she was writing down a secret.

  “I bet Emily's proud of herself,” Nick said. He cleared his throat.

  “I bet she is,” I agreed. “She took great satisfaction in being sly.”

  “Are you going to read yours?” he asked. I felt my grip tighten around the paper, felt the imprint of my name beneath my fingers and I debated what to do.

  “Are you?” I asked. He held his up to the light as if searching for a hidden bomb. “I guess that's what they're for,” he said. “I'll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  “No,” I said. I pulled my hand away before he could snag it from me. “This could be private. We don't know what it is.”

  “Fine,” he said, and shoved the envelope into his pocket. “Read yours right here, right now. Silently. Then I'll do the same.”

  “All right,” I said. I took a seat in one of the empty airport chairs, my fingers trembling as I unfolded the paper. I took a deep breath, shot a pointed look at Nick and Piper, and then scanned the words.

  Sam,

  If you're reading this letter, then it means I'm gone—and that means that you and Nick have taken on the responsibility of raising my precious little girl by yourselves—or more importantly, together. Two days after I was diagnosed with the tumor, I wrote these letters and asked Piper to keep them safe in her bear until the time was right was to give them to you. She’s young, Sam, and I don’t know if she clearly understood, but if you got this, that means she did.

  Tell her I’m proud of her.

  You must know by now that I always knew you and Nick were meant for each other, even when neither of you could see it all those years. You were so stressed out—so angry and cold towards so many people, but I could always see that when Nick was around, he brought out the real you. You pretended to hate it, but I think secretly you were relieved—glad that someone could see you for who you were and still wanted to be around you.

  I hope you moved to Seattle—I always thought it would be good for you to get out of Miami—to face the misty air and cleanse your soul. I’ve heard the rain is good
for that.

  I'm sorry that we didn't have time to prepare for my passing. I did what I thought was right by leaving the decision up to you and Nick. It worried me at first that you would refuse Piper and she would end up with Agnes and Milton, but if you're reading this, then I know you guys made the right choice—and I know this because if this letter is in your hands, Piper must have decided it was a good time to give them to you.

  Take care of my daughter—she's yours now. And take care of Nick—even if you guys don't end up together, you still must care for each other. He has your back, and I know you have his. I am sending all my love. Be good to each other.

  Em

  I looked up from the paper, barely realizing that droplets of tears were streaming down my face. I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket and looked back up at Nick, who looked horrified. Piper was a few seats down from me, crooning something to her bear, letting me absorb it without interfering.

  “That bad?” he asked, and I laughed through my hiccups.

  “No,” I said. “Read yours. And then you can read mine.” I was silent as he joined me in an empty airport seat pulling his own letter from his pocket. He removed the sheet of paper from its envelope and smiled at me before taking one of my hands in my free grip. Squeezing, he read.

  Nick,

  Brother. Friend. You are my other half, and I am sorry we didn't spend more time together before my death. I think that in life, people assume they have more time than they do. The seconds turn into minutes, minutes to hours, and hours into days.

  Losing contact with you was as much my fault as it was yours. I thought of you often, but it was an assumption to believe that things would work out like they were supposed to, given enough time. You missed the first part of Piper's life, but now you and Sam can experience what I cannot: her prom, getting her driver's license...marriage. Children. You are the father she never had—I hope you can accept that. Just know that I cherish everything you are, and in death, whatever happens, know I'll be watching you both. Don't screw it up, brother—you won't find better leading ladies.

  I love you.

  Emily

  They say it takes a village to raise a child, but I think that same thing applies to publishing a book.

  So, thank you to my village.

  There are so many people involved in not only the making of this book, but the formation of my entire writing career. There’s not enough time in the world to thank every person individually, but please know that I treasure you.

  First and foremost, my readers deserve the biggest thanks of all. There is, without a doubt, no way to do this without you. Your unwavering support and excitement keeps me going every day.

  To my mom: thank you for being my best friend and my biggest supporter from the moment I put the pen to paper until I finally released a book fourteen years later. You are such a light in my life. I love you.

  To my husband, for knowing that this day would come before I did, and for supporting our family to give me the opportunity to do so. Your unwavering faith in my ability got me where I am today, and I look forward to the rest of our lives together, taking the world by storm. I am unconditionally in love with you. Forever and always, babe.

  To my parent-in-laws, John and Joannie, for being the absolute best second set of parents I could have ever asked for. Thank you for taking care of us without a single moment’s hesitation, and thanks for reading my books, Mom.

  Special thanks to my family and friends, on all sides, for supporting me through every challenge and all the turmoil, and for sharing my posts and talking me up to their friends. I love you all so much.

  (And to my brother, one of my best friends, because he’d give me crap for not mentioning him.)

  To my editor, Kay … I’m so glad I found you. You’ve shown me what standard I need to meet, and my appreciation and respect for you is endless.

  My cover designers, formatters, proofreaders, beta readers, fellow authors, and cyber BFF’s; I had no idea I could meet some of my closest friends online. Thank you for all that you do. You know who you are.

  And to my son, Aidyn, for all the hours I had to let you play by yourself so I could work. You’re the reason I do what I do and am who I am. I am a better person because of you. I love you, Little A.

  Amber Thielman is an avid reader and writer of dark, edgy Young Adult and New Adult books that push the boundaries and challenge your comfort zone.

  Despite her love for taboo, realistic subjects, Amber reads too much Stephen King and grew up devouring every Fear Street novel R. L. Stine ever wrote. When she's not writing, Amber enjoys traveling, practicing the art of staying on her horse, binge-watching Netflix, and spending time with her husband and their adorable tiny human Aidyn in Southeast Idaho. She also has an undying love for pumpkin-flavored anything, Autumn weather, and all things scary.

  You can find Amber wasting her time on social media when she should be writing the pretty words. Join her, won't you?