Rosie Love Rosie __exclusive__ -

Dear Alex, I’ve made a mess of things. I’m having a baby. I’m staying here. You should stay there. Don’t come back. Love always, Rosie.

Years passed. They visited when they could. They laughed. They danced at each other’s birthday parties. They watched each other fall into relationships that weren’t quite right — Rosie with Greg, who was steady but never thrilling; Alex with Beth, who was kind but never Rosie . Once, in a hotel bar in London, after three glasses of wine, Alex had looked at her and said, “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I’d stayed?” rosie love rosie

But this morning, Rosie did something different. She pulled the letter out. She smoothed the creases. And she walked, not ran, to the post office. Dear Alex, I’ve made a mess of things

Dear Alex, I love you. Not like a friend. Not like a sister. I love you the way I loved you when we were fifteen and you held my hand during a thunderstorm. I love you the way I should have told you a thousand times. Please don’t go. Or if you go, take me with you. You should stay there

She never sent that one either. She sent a cheerful postcard: “Everything’s great! How’s Boston?”

And Alex, trusting her, stayed away.