I took a deep, steadying breath, then opened the card, the seal of the envelope already broken. It was simple paper, folded in half, the date—November 30, two days after Thanksgiving—inscribed at the top.

Lane,

There are a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t give you this note. I have tried with all I have in me to keep from doing so. Respect for my brother and for you and the feelings you share have compelled me to remain silent. But I can’t do it anymore.

Longfellow, a poet I know you love, loved his wife for six years before she accepted his proposal. At one point in that painful span of time, Longfellow tried to rid himself of his affection, to put off what he believed was fruitless, pointless, and never to be returned. Like Longfellow, I have tried. Told myself it can go nowhere. Which may be true, even now that I’m telling you the truth. But I am compelled to tell you anyway. The story I told at dinner about first falling in love with you is true. I loved you that day in your office, and I love you now, still. Every minute I spend in your company sends me from one extreme to the other. Exquisite joy for how much I love to be around you, followed by sharp pain that you aren’t mine to love.

I thought it would be enough. To influence and suggest. To help Jamie see you as I see you. But I realize now I have made a mess where no one can win without someone else getting hurt. For that, I will always be sorry. If it’s too late and my words are unwelcome, I’m sorry for adding this burden of knowledge to your shoulders. In the end, I want only your happiness.

Always, Simon

I read the letter, then read it again. And again. It read like poetry. Like it belonged in a nineteenth-century novel. I wiped the tears from my eyes.

“You didn’t know?” Jamie asked.

I shook my head no. “I . . .” My voice cracked, so I swallowed and started again. “I suspected, but I didn’t know for sure. We never talked about it.”

“I should have seen it sooner,” Jamie said. “He noticed things. Knew things about you that I never picked up on. In hindsight, it makes so much sense.” He huffed a laugh. “Honestly, I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out. I feel like a jerk. Sending him to spend the weekend with you. Asking him to pretend when really he was in love with you the whole time.” Jamie shook his head, self-incrimination emanating from his face.