I should have married you ten years ago. I should have left my wife and children and come to you. It was what we both wanted. But I was so busy trying (but failing) to be honorable and moral and noble that I let you go. Big mistake. Huge mistake. Horrible mistake. And now? You are all I think about. Every day. I don't think about my wife. I don't think about your friend Valerie or any of the other women I've had. And I don't want to be with anybody but you. And I don't love anybody but you. I'm sorry. If I had a time machine, I would go back to the day we met. And everything that followed would be about you. Only you. I love you. I'll always love you. Always.