Page 17 of Finding Love

Fuck me, she’s right. My chest fills with warmth and leaves me breathless as I ask, “You remember?” I can’t believe how much is riding on a simple memory.

Her mouth drops open the way Guilia’s did. “I do… I think,” she amends, chewing her lip. “We went to Saks, and I bought… a black dress, right?”

“Yes! You did!” My heart is soaring as I pull her into a hug without thinking. She’s coming back to me.

I knew she would.

She has to.

What’s even better is the way she melts into my embrace. “It came to me out of nowhere,” she says with a shaky laugh and emotion clogging her voice. “I didn’t hardly think about it. It was just there.”

She’s still laughing as she pulls back a little, beaming brightly, her blue eyes sparkling as they stare into mine. It’s like nothing’s changed. The warmth is there, the familiarity.

The love.

Until I lean in, drawn to her, ready to kiss her waiting lips.

Her eyelids flutter before she goes stiff and wiggles out of my embrace. As quickly as it soared, my heart drops, and I’m reminded of the way things are. No matter how desperately I need her to remember, I can’t force it. As far as she’s concerned, I’m nobody to her. A stranger she might have known but can’t quite place.

I’m barely able to clench my jaw and grind my teeth in time to hold back a scream of pure anguish. Frustration. Even rage. She’s here, next to me, close enough to touch and smell, but it doesn’t matter.

And there’s a chance it never will. It’s too painful to think she may never know what we had together.

Past tense.

No, we aren’t a thing of the past. I just need to be patient.

The only thing I can do is force a smile for the sake of the women in the room rather than hurling something through the window, the way everything in me demands I do. I swallow my disappointment back rather than taking her by the shoulders and shaking her hard, screaming into her face, demanding she remember me. All that will do is cause her more pain. Not show her my love. Our love. Everything we sacrificed for each other now feels like a waste if it ends with her hating me for who I am.

8

EMILIA

That was awkward and almost scary.

I should be thrilled. Over the moon. Relieved that I remembered something as small as a shopping trip. It should give me hope and strength. I should be celebrating because, for the first time in days, it feels like there’s a reason to celebrate.

So why am I so goddamn miserable as I sit here alone in this beautiful, unfamiliar house?

It was obvious Luca was glad to see me go from the main house. He didn’t try to convince me to stick around or offer to walk me down here. He was relieved, and I think I know why. I’m sorry for it and not trying to hurt him, no matter what he’s done or how many people he’s hurt—or worse.

I have to give him credit. There was clear, blazing anger sizzling through him after that pivotal moment when it was clear he wanted to kiss me, and I stopped him before he had the chance. I turned him down. Rejected him. He was enraged by that and maybe embarrassed since it happened in front of his family. I’m not sure whether any of them noticed. I hope they didn’t, and not only for his sake. He doesn’t strike me as a guy who lets go of grudges easily.

He has this dangerous edge to him.

That’s not even the worst part.

I wish it was.

A sick chill runs through me and leaves me reaching for a throw pillow on the sofa, where I’m sitting in front of the television, paying no attention to the movie I switched on when I got here—anything to fill the silence. The pillow provides no comfort, no matter how tightly I clutch it.

I wanted him to kiss me.

I wanted to kiss him.

For a split second, it felt inevitable. An inhale following an exhale. The sort of thing you do without thinking, like a habit. He leaned in, and I was going to lean in to meet his mouth with mine. I wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms.

I wanted him to hold me.

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