Elle: Thank you for choosing me.
Elle: I've decided that once a year I should be nice to you. That's a lie. I'll probably be too disgusted with myself by the end of this to EVER do it again. Three weeks ago I sent you an I love you text and I'm still hurting a little bit inside so you can imagine how AWFUL this is going to be. More awful than that dinner with my parents and a TV crew. I'm getting off topic.
Elle: I didn't know what being loved was all about. I had Caden in my life, you know about that. I always related love to some low key/high key level of hate. I didn't understand why someone would love the softer parts of me because they couldn't love the hard bits. I loved Austin. That ended in flames... Literally. You were different. I hate saying this but I think you knew me. You didn't love me because I was strong and mean and rude or had an image. You loved some other weird as hell part of me that I didn't really recognise. I wanted you. I knew that before I admitted it, it's hard to even admit it now. I didn't just want to fuck you. You weren't just a game to me, you were fun but you were all the things I'd told myself I hated; Kind, reliable, comforting, sensible(most of the time). I guess that if you weren't someone else's then I never would of even tried. It's really fucking hard to admit that but I want you to know, in case you ever doubt it, you're literally all I could of EVER wanted. Probably more.
Elle: I don't know why you chose me over Lacey. Sometimes I look at her pictures. Sometimes I look at her and Drew together and I think that anyone would of been stupid to choose me over her. Lacey was kind and sweet, she always is. I fucking hate that. Can you hate someone for being nice? I'm not asking you why you picked me... Elle Griffin doesn't ask for reassurance, as you know.
Elle: Thanks for liking me.
Elle: I mean, really, thanks for liking me. Thanks for liking brown hair and glasses. Thanks for liking dumb as hell Christmas hats. Thank you for liking games and awkward confessionals. Thank you for liking high street labels as much as Gucci. Thank you for having no idea what the difference between a $2000 bottle of wine and one from my parents vineyard. Thank you for knowing that I wouldn't be an asshole to your daughter. Thank you for telling me who I was when I had no idea. Thank you for not going back to crosswords and all that "boring stuff" I told you to. Thank you for not getting married and having boring kids and a boring life and sitting on the front porch with other couples (which can't happen because everyone probably thinks I'm a bitch).
Elle: I love you, William Grace. Even though even your last name is really boring. Even though you're a classic "nice guy" type who never made me want to burn down an entire city. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone (well... besides myself). You're lucky to have me. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm pretty lucky to have you too, you're not so bad, boy next door. Even if I'm still 99.9% sure you tried to kill me. I'll never let that go.
Elle: By the way, if I get any less than the amount of roses than the specific (and self calculated) amount of days since you first laid eyes on me then I'm going to be highly disappointed. You better work, Will. I'm a high maintenance girl.
Elle: If this wakes you up then don't talk to me about it until I've had three glasses of red wine or am holding a child so I can't kill you.
Elle: Happy Valentine's day, babe. I love you.
