I tear into it and unfold it. It’s short, not even a half a page.

I start to read.

Dearest April,

When I met you, I immediately felt like the sun rose and set in your eyes. I went to bed thinking about you at night, and I woke up with you on my mind in the morning. We had some really good times, didn’t we? I relished the long walks we took. I looked forward to seeing you at night and sleeping with you in my arms.

Then I got the diagnosis. I found out that I was sick, and when I needed you to be there for me, you f**ked my best friend. You weren’t there to hold my hand through chemo. You weren’t there to help me get to and from doctor’s appointments. You weren’t there when I was so sick I couldn’t hold my head up. You were with him. You were under him and on top of him and with him instead of me.

I asked my brothers to give you this letter in the event of my death, so if you’re reading this, I’m gone. I’ve lived out my days, and even though you’ve moved on, I need to tell you how I feel.

A good man might want to ease your conscience.

A good man might want to give you some peace.

But good wasn’t important to you.

I f**king hate you. I hate that you’re breathing. I hate that you’re alive. I hate that you’re able to laugh and that you’re going to go on and procreate and make more sorry-ass human beings just like yourself.

I hope that your heart leaped when you got this letter. Final words of love from me. Hahahahahaha! I am dead, so I can say whatever I want.

And what I want to say is:

I f**king hate you. I hope you get exactly what you deserve in life.

With the utmost hatred and disdain,

Matthew Reed

PS – I still hate you.

I lay my hand over my mouth to stifle the noise that wants to come out. I’m not sure what it is. It might be a laugh. It might be a gasp. But whatever it is, it takes my breath away. I get up and go get my coat. I don’t even get dressed. I put on my jacket and pad downstairs in my bedroom slippers. It has started to rain heavily, so I call a cab and get in it and go home. I go back to my kids because that’s where I belong. And there’s no doubt in my mind that I want to go to Matt. But I can wait until tomorrow. He was willing to give up and go home so I could do what was in the best interest of my kids. He will be willing to wait until morning. I need to talk with my dad anyway. And I need to go watch Joey and Mellie sleep. And Maybe even Seth, too.

Matt

I let myself into the apartment. I should have known that they would all still be up. There wasn’t a chance in hell I would come home and not be bombarded with questions. One: there was the wedding. Two: there was April. Three: April and Sky were in the same room. Four: I kind of did Sky in the supply closet against the wall.

Shit. Paul is going to skewer me.

My brothers are draped across the furniture like building blocks. Pete’s feet are on the back of the couch, and Sam’s head is just below them. Paul is in the lazy chair, and Logan is stretched out on the other sofa by himself. He sits up first and turns off the TV. I look toward the hallway. Where are Reagan and Emily?

“We sent them baby shopping.” Paul says, swiping a hand down his face.

Baby shopping? Oh yeah. I keep forgetting that Emily is pregnant. Logan is such a lucky bastard. I know it sounds resentful to call him that, when he has to deal with being deaf every day, but still. I survived f**king cancer. I should get a perk. Like fatherhood.

“Thank you,” I breathe. I’m so glad they’re not here. They’re as nosy as my brothers, but not nearly as subtle.

“You had a big night, I hear,” Paul says.

“We had a little misunderstanding. That’s all.” I go get a beer and then sit down beside Logan.

“Where is Sky now?”

“I hope she’s at the apartment with the kids.”

“Logan told us what happened,” Paul says. “Tough luck.”

I throw my beer bottle cap at Logan. “You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?” I’m joking. Sort of. I throw my hands up. “It’s not like you guys haven’t had sex in some strange places.”

Paul’s brow furrows. “Sex? What about sex?”

Logan laughs out loud. It’s more of a bark. But I hear it. “Shut up,” I grumble, and I kick his knee.

He laughs again. “I didn’t tell them about that.” He cups his hands around his mouth and says, “He did her in the coat room.”

I take a sip of my beer. A grin tugs at my lips. Hell, they already know. “Supply closet, actually.”

“How was it?” Pete asks.

I scowl at him. “None of your f**king business.”

Sam puffs his chest out and pretends to be Paul. “Did you use a condom?” He laughs. I don’t. I’m not going to tell them that part, regardless.

“I’m shooting blanks, man. We all know that. I couldn’t get her pregnant if I wanted to.”

“You don’t know that,” Paul says.

“I do, too. I know in the very marrow of my bones that I will never have a child of my own.” I hold up a finger. “But,” I say, “Sky just happens to have three already, and they all need a dad, so I’m a pretty happy guy.”

“Are you really?” Paul asks. His brow furrows. He grabs my knee and squeezes it. “You going to be satisfied with that?”

I take another sip of my beer. “I’ll have to be, won’t I?”