Me: Thanks!

And yeah, you read that correctly. Patrick. As in my ex-boyfriend, as in the guy Ollie hates, as in the man he's going to have to learn to deal with since Bridge is giddily in love with him. Why, you ask? Well, it's all explained in clue two, the one Patrick is waiting to hand over to Ollie the moment he arrives at the bowling alley.

Clue #2 Dear Ollie, Remember that whole don't shoot the messenger thing? Well, I promised Patrick he'd be able to walk away from this favor without a bloody nose, so please, please don't punch him. Because the only reason he's here is to show you how over him I am.

The last time you were at this bowling alley, I was with Patrick and you were with Aubrey. But deep down in our hearts, I think we both knew we really wanted to be there with each other. When I look back on that night, it's almost funny how jealous we were both acting, how obvious it probably was to our dates, and how oblivious the two of us were.

While I cared for Patrick, I can't deny that our whole relationship was a distraction-my one last effort to forget you. Clearly, it didn't work. And I'm so glad it didn't. The whole time I was with him, I was thinking about you, I was wanting you. And it was unfair to him, unfair to you, and unfair to me too. And I used him again last week, this time against Bridge, but everything ended up the same way-in heartache. Which is why I told Bridge to get back together with Patrick, I owed it to both of them. And now, they're so happy together. You'll understand when you see them. But all you need to know now is that last weekend wasn't about Patrick, not even a little bit. I'm over him. The only person I love is you. And I know that's what last weekend should have been about-you and me and Bridge and telling her how crazy we are about each other-I know. And I'm so sorry that in my fear and paranoia, I made it about something and someone else.

So, if you think somehow, someway, you can forgive me, here's a hint for your next clue. Head to the place where we shared our very first date. That surprise turned out pretty great, so I'm hoping this one will too!

All my love, Skye While I wait impatiently for word from Patrick, the cold starts to seep into my bones again. Because without the constant distraction of a video feed, my thoughts are turning toward Ollie, wondering where he is, what he's thinking, and why it's taking him so long. I'm holding on to the warm, excited butterflies, but they're losing strength against the wintery winds striking my face every few seconds.

So I get up, wander down the pier until I reach a little cafe and jump inside. The smell of coffee immediately soothes my worries, so I order a mocha and find an open seat, breathing in the chocolate scent and letting the sugar dance across my tongue as I settle in.

Patrick: Ollie just left. I'm all in one piece, and he's headed toward clue three.

I jerk alive in my seat, clutching my phone.

Does that mean he's ready to forgive me?

It has to, right?

It must?

It does.

Sean: Who's clue three.

Bridge: ...you are, Dad.

Sean: Right. I've grown senile in my old age, kid.

Claire: Don't worry, Skylar. Unlike my husband, I'm prepared. And I'm ready to knock some sense into my son as soon as he gets here.

Bridge: Patrick, are you coming over? I'm literally freaking out like a maniac, and I need someone to come sit and wait with me.

Patrick: On my way.

Mom: This is so exciting!

Bridge: I know...I can't handle it anymore!! The anticipation is killing me! How are you doing, Skye?

Me: Surprisingly calm! Don't want to jinx it.

Bridge: AHHHHHH!

Me: Thanks for that...

Bridge: Just doing what I can to help :) And then the text chain goes dead because there's nothing else to do but wait. Ollie is in motion to the next stop, and until he gets there, we're all in limbo. So I sip on my coffee and think back to what I wrote for clue three, hoping beyond hope it was enough.

Clue #3 Dear Ollie, I guess I should tell you that our first date, my surprise little picnic in your restaurant, was one of the best nights of my life. But you already know that, don't you? I hope so. I hope you could see it in my eyes, read it in my expression, feel it in your heart that everything was perfect. So perfect. Because for the first time since you told me you loved me, I started to believe it. For the first time, sitting with you in the candlelight at four in the morning, learning all these things about you that I never knew, I started to believe we were real.

Maybe that's why you forgave me so quickly about John, because you sensed what I did that night-that all of our impossible dreams were actually starting to come true. But I never gave you the apology I should have. Because telling Bridge I was dating John, hiding you behind that secret, was the worst mistake I've ever made in my life. And I wish so badly that I could go back in time and take it back. I understand why you said your biggest fear was that I'd never be able to move on from our past, because now that's my fear, too.

So I did what I do best, acted a little rashly, a little drastically. By the way, say hi to your parents for me (if you're not still stunned speechless that is)! And before you ask, they know...everything. Too much, in fact. I'm pretty sure I accidently told them you took my virginity. But you know what? I don't care. All I care about is making sure you know that I never want you to be a secret again, and I understand that you never should have been a secret in the first place. I love you, and I want everyone to know! I'm not afraid. I've let go of the past. I've pushed away all the fears. You aren't Oliver McDonough, off-limits older brother, anymore. You're Ollie. My Ollie. At least, I hope so.

Please believe me when I say I'm ready to give us a shot, a real shot, no holding back, no letting the doubts take over, no reservations. I'm ready, and I need you to trust that I am. Because I trust you with my whole soul, I really, really do. So if you're ready, your next clue is waiting in the spot where I first said out loud, to other people, that you were my boyfriend. Maybe it only took a second to say, but the moment meant a whole lot more than that to me. And I hope it did to you too.

So much love and hope, I might burst, Skye Twenty minutes pass with no word. But I do a very un-Skylar thing and try to focus on logic, on the facts. He has to walk to the subway, switch trains, which always takes a little longer on the weekends, and then make his way to the restaurant. When he gets there, his mom will probably start crying, and then yelling, and then crying again, because, well, Bridge had to get her dramatic flair from someone. And who knows how long the three of them will talk before he finally leaves?

It's to be expected that it's taking this long.

Totally normal.

Totally not suspicious at all.

Still, my heart leaps into my chest the moment my phone buzzes.

Sean: Ollie just left. On his way to your mother.

Claire: I can't wait to tell this story to the grandkids!

Bridge: Mom...

Claire: What?

Bridge: Skye might not even want kids. You need to chill.

Mom: Of course she wants kids!

Mom: You do...right?

Me: Oh my god, relax. Yes, I want kids, someday far off in the future, after I've had a chance to live a little more. You know, find a job I actually like. Maybe live in a foreign country. Get married.

Bridge: YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO MOVE!!

Right, so, Italy is off the table for a little while. Sorry, Ollie. But Bridge can only handle so many life-changing surprises at a time.

Still though, I'm grinning into my phone, laughing quietly to myself, earning a few strange looks from the other people sitting around me in the cafe. I couldn't care less. Let them think I'm weird. I've decided to stop worrying what the world thinks about me. Because, who cares? All that matters is what the people I love think about me. And to them, my quirks are the best part. At least, I hope so...

Mom: So, it's my turn? Right?

Me: Yup! You're the last clue!

Bridge: Good luck, Mrs. C! You'll rock it! Mom, Dad, come to the apartment, I don't think Patrick can handle me on his own.

Patrick: I can.

Bridge: I'm scaring him away!

Patrick: You're not.

Patrick: But, Mr. and Mrs. McDonough, please do come. It would be wonderful to meet you both after hearing so much about you from Skye and Bridge.

Claire: Such a gentleman!

Bridge: Such a suck up!

I roll my eyes at them both, shaking my head, already envisioning how this meet and greet will go down. Patrick, ever the Prince Charming, will totally have Bridge's mom falling under his spell. Her dad will try to be tough, but it's not really his nature. One glance at the love in Bridge's eyes, and he'll be putty in their hands. He's a softie deep down, just like Ollie.

It's what I'm counting on.

It's why I hope he'll understand what I'm trying to tell him when he reads the fourth and final clue.

Clue #4 Dear Ollie, Have you ever been to a wedding? Have you ever witnessed a groom giving his speech, staring adoringly at his beautiful new bride, professing that he knew, from the very first moment they met, that she was the one? I used to ask myself how-how did he know? Because I thought my dad felt that way about my mom, and then he left. I thought John felt that way about me, and then he cheated. I think you feel that way about me now, but you still walked away. I've asked myself so many times, how? How do people know? How do I just let go of the doubts and trust that everything we're feeling is true and lasting and won't ever change?

For a long time, I thought we needed that first-glance moment, that we couldn't make it without being able to say we never doubted for a second that we were soul mates. But you know what? We'll never have that. And I'm glad. Because those words, as beautiful as they are, aren't real. Life is full of questions, full of doubts. And so is our story. It's real, not a fairy tale. And I sort of love that about us.

The first time I met you, I was on a play date with Bridge. You had cooties, so we wouldn't let you touch our Barbies. You responded by shrugging and then going outside to play football with your dad. That's real. For years, we grew up side-by-side, oftentimes arguing, always laughing. We became best friends, a trio. That's real. I fell in love with you in an instant, but only because I've known you my entire life. And when I look back on my early, girly crush, I can't help but roll my eyes because that wasn't real. That was fantasies in my head, doodling in my notebook, the make-believe love of a girl. But what we have now? What I realize we've been building to our whole lives? That's real. So real it terrified me.

Because I used to think you were supposed to know the moment you met that the other person was the love of your life. I thought, somehow, a light bulb would go on, a switch would flip, and I would just know. Like all those other people do. I was waiting for that moment, I was waiting for all the doubts and the fears to magically disappear, I was waiting for a miracle. But then you took me to the mountains, we were holding hands in the bright light of day, sipping on wine, and I realized something. There is no eureka moment. There's just you and me and a choice we'll need to make every single day to be together. Life is uncertain. Things change. But if we trust in each other, we don't have to be that way. If we believe in each other, we'll last forever. If we have faith, if we take the leap, and jump in with everything we have, we can't fail. If we choose each other, time and time again, for the rest of our lives, even when there are obstacles in the way, the love we have will last.

So, Ollie, I'm choosing you. Please, please, choose me too. Choose my doubts. Choose my insecurities. Choose my love, as imperfect as it is. Choose my heart, because it beats only for you. Choose me, for everything you love and everything you don't. Because I'm choosing you, all of you, the parts that drive me wild and the parts that drive me insane. And I'll keep choosing them forever.

Waiting seriously impatiently by now, but still with all my love, Skye P.S. I'm making it easy for you because I've made you run around enough today. I'm at the end of the park next to Chelsea Piers. We came here on Halloween last year in accidently matching Grease costumes, and I really think the world was sending us a sign to just get over our egos and kiss already! So, I'm hoping fate has a similar suggestion in mind today. :) Oh, and your wallet is waiting with me, just in case you need an extra nudge!

That's it.

My last effort. My last hope. My last clue.

Mom: Ollie is on his way to you!

And that's it. No one else responds. No one else texts. Because I think they're all holding their breath, just like I am, waiting to see what happens.

So I get up, throw away my coffee cup, and walk out of the cafe. I make my way to the end of the pier, no longer bothered by the cold. Then I turn around, keeping my eyes glued to the sidewalk as I take a deep breath, and wait.

Not for a prince.

Not for a storybook character.

Not for someone I made up in my head.

But for Ollie. My perfectly, imperfect love.

I'm trying really hard to be brave and courageous and unafraid for the first time in my life. But who am I kidding? There's a little part of me that is scared absolutely shitless.

Fifteen minutes pass with nothing.

No Ollie, at least.

There's a little more activity on the streets since I emerged from the cafe. The slushy sidewalks are starting to melt enough to reveal concrete. Two people have passed walking their dogs. A mom with a stroller wrapped in a lamb's wool blanket ran by, breathing puffy clouds with each step. Three couples holding hands wandered in and out of view, taking photos of the ivory-speckled skyline and the icy chunks flowing down river. Water drips from the trees, twinkling like little falling stars as the drops make their way to the ground, speckling the snow.

And then there's me.

Alone.

But so obviously waiting for someone it's probably painful for other people to watch. I've got that eager aura around me, slightly crazed, slightly optimistic. The girl at the bar who got stood up, only it's bright daylight, and there's nowhere to hide.

But he's coming.

He is.

And I keep telling myself that over and over again, holding on to those words like a lifeline, using them to keep my meager bout of bravery alive. My hands are clutched worriedly in front of my stomach, wringing and squeezing tight. But that's the only little bit of nerves I've allowed myself to have. The rest of me is strong and steady. My shoulders are back, my head is held high, my eyes are glued on the other end of the pier, and I'm still, calm, peaceful.

Not a single part of me wants to run away.

I'll wait here just like this for as long as it takes. I'd just prefer it if Ollie, you know, moved a little faster. Had a little pep in his step. Maybe got a good kick in the butt from my mom. And then I see a bright blur of yellow start to slow, turning into a taxi that's pulled to a stop.

I swallow.

Take a deep breath.

Don't blink.

Don't move.

The door swings open. A foot drops out, a man's foot. Then a leg in dark-blue jeans. An arm, revealing the sleeve of a charcoal winter coat, one I might recognize. But it's February. And it's New York. So I don't want to hope. But I can't help it. My chest swells. And then he stands. And even from fifty yards away, those turquoise eyes somehow pierce, touching my soul, searing my skin, sending my pulse a flurry.

Because it's Ollie.

He's here.

He came.

And he's running, not walking, toward me.

For a moment, I consider matching his sense of urgency. But then my eyes drop to the ground, taking in the slush and the melting ice, and I pause. Because, let's be real, of all the people in the world, I'm the last one who should be running on a pier that's covered in slippery snow. We all know I'd have no chance. Two steps in, my foot would inevitably catch on something, and I'd lose my balance, ending up face first in the muck. Or, knowing me, it'd be even more dramatic. My foot would catch, I'd manage to bop around for a solid three seconds before sliding over the ice, flailing my arms, before totally face planting against the railing. I can just see it now, the romantic moment when Ollie comes to sweep me off my feet like a hero in a classic movie, and I greet him with a busted lip and blood pouring down my chin.

Yeah, no thanks.

I think I'll just stay here.

"What's so funny?" Ollie murmurs.

"Huh?" I glance up, dazed and still lost in the image of blood and gore that I miraculously managed to somehow avoid in real life.

And then it hits me, Ollie is here!