by Jill Cox
Luckily for me, the guys at the Restoration Initiative appreciate Ducky’s shenanigans. He moved in to the shelter after you kicked him out, and he stuck around until Christmas. But everyone missed him, so I brought him back for Chinese New Year. Then the Qingming Festival, Labor Day, the Dragon Boat Festival… until eventually, Ducky just became a part of daily life, much to your chagrin.
Some days, we find Ducky climbing his “rock wall” of magnets up the refrigerator or riding a bamboo surf board down the staircase banister. Other days, he spells out his name in M&M’s.
This morning, Ducky is climbing up the branch of an aloe plant on the front desk, wearing a paper cowboy hat, chaps, and spurs that I tricked you into coloring for me last night.
Hey, if Ducky makes people happy, who are you to judge?
I’m gonna miss Ducky when we move to New Haven in six weeks. Remind me again why I decided to get my PhD?
Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s been my dream my whole life, and when our old friend Dr. Sweeney took over Yale’s doctoral program, he moved mountains to get my commitment transferred from Columbia. Not gonna lie – that was flattering. Whatever. I still think I’m crazy.
Anyway, we’ve reached the end of this journal. And as I’ve been writing this last letter, I’ve decided to give it to you a few days early. Why? Because A) I have no patience (shocker) and B) I’d like to revisit our dinner date plans for Thursday night. Are you sure you still want to eat greasy burgers and fries for our anniversary? I know you think five-star restaurants are a waste of money, but hear me out.
You’ve had a stomach bug off and on for days. And as much as I loved revisiting the Valentine’s puke story a few pages back, I don’t actually want to reenact it now that we’re old geezers. So, you tell me: greasy burgers or a well-done filet mignon? It all comes from the same cow. Except one choice is more likely to end up on my clothes at the end of the night. Your call, Sully.
Love,
Pete
Thursday, May 10th, 11:43 a.m.
Dear Pete,
Happy third anniversary, my love! Well, technically, today is our sixth anniversary. You kissed me on May 10th of our junior year in college, and because we eloped on that same date three years later, I don’t count any of the (twenty-seven) months in the middle when we weren’t together.
I am sitting across the room from you right now, watching you check people in for laundry day here at the Restoration Initiative. It’s hard for me to remember now what my life was like before you. I must have been supremely bored. Because even now, when my daily tasks include sweeping floors and folding laundry, you make me laugh so hard that I cry.
A million memories float through my brain as I watch you making every person who walks through the front door feel like a celebrity. Do you know that you do that? I don’t think you do. It’s just who you are. And I’m so lucky to spend my days in your orbit.
Sometimes I wonder what Freshman Year Meredith™ would think if she knew that somehow, despite all the odds, Adult Meredith™ has shacked up in China with the ultimate frat boy. Ha! Could she wrap her mind around that possibility? No way. Yet here we are, living the dream, one hundred percent crazy in love.
And thank you for having zero chill when it comes to giving gifts. I’m super happy for once that you gave me that leather anniversary journal full of memories three days in advance. Nice one, Russell! But you should really leave the three references to me from now on. When are you gonna learn, bro? Pete Russell has never schooled Meredith Sullivan at her own games.
See, tonight, while we’re eating burgers (not steak), your buddy James is taking Ducky Shincracker on a field trip. For once, I’m allowing that weird doll back in our flat, where you’ll find him on your side of the bed, holding this letter and sitting atop of an innocent cushion of soft white cotton.
Is it a t-shirt, you’re asking yourself? A pillowcase? Naw, look again, mister! If you unloop it, you’ll see… oh, wait, guess who’s catching on, ladies and gents! Have you figured it out yet?
Why yes, that is a onesie emblazoned with a giant barcode and the words: Made in China.
Hey, maybe you could take this back in your time machine when you visit Freshman Year Pete™ instead of the stalker-esque picture of me sleeping. Talk about blowing that kid’s mind!
“Greetings, younger self! I bear news from the future. Number one: buy all the bitcoins you can, and number two: DUDE. You’re Meredith Sullivan’s baby daddy.”
Stomach bug INDEED. How about this for our couple hashtag? #BabyMakesTHREE
Love,
Sully
Acknowledgements
It feels impossible now, but the first time I read The Bridge and The Long Walk back-to-back, I realized (to my extreme horror) that Pete Russell was only my third favorite male character.
First place: Jack Kelly. Second place: Dan Thomas.
I KNOW. I’m as shocked as you are by Past Jill™.
What?! No. Just… NO.
So I came up with a solution: I typed out Pete’s backstory in his own words. Every night for three weeks that summer, I let Pete’s version of things flow onto the page with zero censorship. It was maybe the easiest writing experience of my life (probably because I thought NO ONE would ever read it). And what I discovered on those pages changed who Pete became in later revisions of The Bridge and The Long Walk. In other words, the Pete you know and love today.
In 2017, I decided to revisit the secret Pete project. Only this time, I started off longhand in a notebook, just like Pete would have done while he was writing Meredith. And now, two years later, I’m sad to let Dear Sully go. Fictional or not, Peter Beckett Russell is a fiercely loyal friend. And I, for one, am thankful he picked me to tell his stories. I will miss listening to his voice inside my head. (Weirdo.)
Now that you know the story behind this story, here’s the list of people who helped me place it in your hands. If you love Pete as much as I do, please tell them thanks.
Thank you first and always to my heavenly Father, who has shown me grace and mercy from the moment I was conceived. I should thank You also for the hard lessons along the way… although if I’m being honest, I’m not a fan of difficult things. Sola gratia.
To my parents: I think it’s been more fun watching you two fangirl over these books than it has been to write them. Thank you will never be enough. I love you both.
Shout out to Sarah Oister for another gorgeous cover, and to Sharon Duncan for her consistently brilliant editing and her general life expertise. Both of you make my stories appear way better than they are. (BTW, Sharon gave Dear Sully its title, so tell her thanks, will you?) Also, mad props to Tarran Turner for the Tower 19 Press logo and to Eddie Renz for website support (and The Bridge cover!).
To any of my friends or family who have faithfully cheered me on from the sidelines: I see you. I hear you. And I’ll never forget the way you’ve huddled around me on this particular word marathon. Also, big hugs to everyone who helped me keep this “secret project” under wraps until the very last second. (Although let’s be honest: I did a terrible job keeping it secret myself.)
And finally, to you, the reader: Pete and Meredith made me believe in love again after a very, very long time when I did not. But you? You made me believe that dreams can come true. You’re holding one of mine in your hands. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your part in this journey.
About the Author
Jill Cox studied French language and literature so she could move to Paris, and then taught high school French so she could convince others to join in on the fun. She has never been to China, but that didn’t stop her from modeling the fictional Restoration Initiative after a real-life non-profit in Shanghai managed by her real-life cousin, James. Now that she’s completed The Bridge series, Jill has run away to Neverland – or maybe just her neighborhood coffee shop – where she’s drafting all the novels that stacked up in her brain while she was playing matchmaker for Meredith and Pete. You can find her on all
social media platforms as @jillcoxbooks.
Copyright
© 2019 by Jill Cox and Tower 19 Press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to places, events, organizations, and/or persons living or deceased is purely coincidental.
ISBN 978-0-9982200-5-5 (digital)
Cover artwork and design by Sarah Huggins Oister
Author portrait by Mike and ReJana Krause | BluDoor Studios
Tower 19 Press logo by Tarran Turner
Vintage keys set vector | Vectorstock (Artist: Seamartini)
Vintage padlock vector | Vectorstock (Artist: Vectortatu)
Florentine journal pattern | Avalon Rose Design
Printed in the United States of America