Dear Rosie, (Love Letters #2)

I was so close to losing Rosie.

A sob seizes my lungs.

I was so close to never having her.

Behind my eyelids, I picture the life I want us to have together.

I picture her happy.

I picture her safe.

I picture the children we’ll have.

And I cry even more for the future we almost lost.

And then I think about Rosie, right now, all alone in my bed.

I shove up to my feet and stumble toward the door.

She’ll never feel alone again.

Not ever.

Not for a moment.

With the letter in hand, I forget about everything else I was going to take with me, and I leave Rosie’s apartment.

She’s not coming back here.

She’s not leaving me.

I won’t let her go.

I won’t let her go.

I repeat those words in my head as I drive back.

As I enter my condo.

As I walk straight to my bedroom.

And when I see her.

When I see my Rosie.

I drop the letter and strip my shirt and sweatpants off.

I need to be close to her.

I need to feel her heat against my skin.

Instead of going to my side of the bed, I climb in behind her, and I wrap her in my arms.

I hold her as close as possible.

I hold her as my tears soak into the pillow.

I hold her even after I fall asleep.