The Wrong Man (Allen Brothers Series #3)
Read a tiny sneak peek at Jack’s story...
My dearest, Jack,
It’s the middle of the night, our beautiful baby girls are in their beds after one of the best days we’ve ever had as a family at the Central Park Zoo. You’re probably snoring that adorable snore you do that you claim never happens, and I’m downstairs in your office, sitting in your big comfy leather chair that is so worn in that I may fall asleep in once I’m done writing this letter to you.
I hate to disappoint you, but this letter isn’t like the love letters we use to write to each other via email when we were just dating and I was doing my residency. Technically, it’s a letter I hope you never need to read. It’s a strange concept to wrap my head around but there you have it.
You were the one who said we had to get our house in order. You were the one who said once our girls were born we should draw up a will, “just in case.” So here I am at three o’clock-ish in the morning putting pen to paper and getting our house in order, “just in case.” It feels as morbid as it sounds. And I can assure you that I had no intention of ever writing this. But as I sat up in bed tonight—awoken by your non-existent snoring—I listened to our girls’ rhythmic breathing over the baby monitor and to put it plainly, was moved to tears.
I know, I know, maybe it’s the hormones still playing tricks on me. As someone in the medical profession, I’m aware that I’m still prone to mood swings since the birth of our perfect girls. It happens to all mommies out there. Nevertheless, hearing Isabelle and Annabelle breathe in and out from their tiny little lungs over the monitor reminded me how precious this gift of life is and to never take it for granted. I was so moved that I got out of bed, left you snoring, and came downstairs to write you this letter. Again, hoping you’ll never read it, but it’s the thought that counts. And who knows? Maybe when we’re old and gray and sitting in our special spots by the big bay window which you think brings way too much light into the living room and needs blackout blinds but you sit there anyway because it makes me happy, we’ll whip out this letter for fun.
It seems ridiculous to write it down, but I feel I must just for the record…I love you, Jack. I love our babies so much that it hurts. I love our life. And if you are in fact reading this letter well before we are old and gray, I needed you to know all of those things one more time from me.
You are the most amazing father to our girls. Better than you will ever give yourself credit for. They look up to you in awe, as do I, for the patience of a saint that you exude in something as simple as getting literally shit on by them while changing a diaper…or twenty. (Yes, I curse, too, sometimes, ha!) My favorite moments are the ones where you think no one is paying attention or even listening in on the baby monitor. Like your habit of singing them to sleep with 90’s rap songs in a lullaby version that makes my heart melt and puts the biggest smile on my face like you wouldn’t believe. Just last week you were singing a version of Tupac’s, “Dear Mama,” that had me simultaneously cracking up and warming my soul until you put the girls down for the night and then came to our bed, where I pretended as if I hadn’t heard the whole thing.
I’m good like that.
I know that our girls will be in safe hands and in fact, the best hands. Because you, my dearest Jack, are the best father that I could have picked for our beautiful girls. And I know you will make sure that Isabelle and Annabelle know they are loved beyond measure every single day of their lives for as long as they live. I only ask that you please make sure they know how much I loved them and still do from wherever I am.
As for you, my love, please enjoy the rest of this life. We only get one chance to live it, so, for me, and for our girls, live it to the fullest. Take it by the horns and make it your own. Live, love, laugh, and everything else. Just because I’m gone, doesn’t mean you should be sequestered in sadness for the rest of your days. It hurts me to imagine you alone. You deserve more than that.
Having said that, eventually you will begin to date. It’s only natural. And I’m certain that the woman you bring into our girls’ lives would have to be the most special woman ever, because she will be blessed to witness my babies growing up. Being with them as they graduate pre-K, then grade school. Watch them as they go off to college and settle into dorm life. Be there for them as they choose whoever will be their soul mates and ultimately settle down. And then one day, hold their babies in her arms…our grandbabies.
Jack, it’s going to be amazing, I promise.
Don’t be afraid.
Hold her hand and tell her she is loved. Hug her and tell her how much she means to you. Do all the things you will and should be doing with her and know that your lives are blessed.
Every single day we take the little things for granted.
Don’t.
Stop and smell the roses, my dearest, Jack.
I love you more than words can ever say.
Yours, forever and always,
Avery
P.S. Included are several letters to give to our babies when they reach certain milestones as they grow up. And another letter to whomever will be here for you and for them. Don’t worry, I won’t tell them about your non-snoring either.
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