I can't believe it.
After 300 pages of near misses, and chance meetings, and true love, and miscommunication, and the final big We-can't-go-on-like-this-so-I'm-ending-it-now, he finally gets it together. He can let go his wife who died tragically years ago. He wants to move on. He writes one last letter-in-a-bottle to his wife to say goodbye, and mails another to the woman he wants to be with. Then he goes out in a boat to throw away the Last Bottle. A storm comes up. Faster than he expected. And he dies.
And she's left where he was in the beginning. Writing love letters to the deceased.
Usually my favorite books aren't the ones with pat endings. Lord of the Rings comes to mind. Or Peter Pan. But this is going a bit too far.
I'm off to find some Happily Ever After now.
