Page 39 of Finding Love

Dear Emilia,

You’re getting a little better every day. I’m so proud of you. Before now, I knew how brave and strong you are, and now you’re proving it to everyone who takes care of you.

All I want is to take care of you too. I keep imagining how life will be when you’re out of here, and we can go back to normal. There are so many places I want to take you, so much I want you to see. I want to experience the world through your eyes. You help me see everything in a new light. You give me a reason to keep moving forward.

Dear Emilia,

It’s been four days since the doctors told me you lost your memory. It was like living in a nightmare when you didn’t know who I was. You still don’t know, but I’m not giving up.

That’s another thing you taught me without meaning to. I know what it means to love someone so much that you would do anything so long as it meant it’s what’s best for them. I want to beg you to remember me. I want to remind you of everything we’ve been through and everything that’s waiting for us, but it will only push you further away. As it is, you’re miles from me now.

I’d give anything to hold you. To kiss you. I wake up at night with your name on my lips, ready to call out and beg you to return to me. All I can do is give you the space and time you need to heal.

I need you to know nothing is ever going to change my love for you. It will never go away or weaken. I’m going to love you to my last breath and probably beyond then. Nothing will ever change that.

There are so many more written on lined notebook paper and scrap paper that may have come from his father’s office or his mother’s sitting room. Dozens of letters pouring his heart out to me. He wrote down everything he couldn’t say out loud. He knew I wouldn’t react well but couldn’t keep it bottled up.

Even as I was leaving, he didn’t tell me about them. All he could do was make sure I saw them.

According to the letter, he wrote the last one the morning we went to the Hamptons.

Dear Emilia,

I’m taking you back to the Hamptons. I decided last night that’s what I need to do. You might remember being abducted, and it might be too much for you, but you’re going to remember eventually. I would rather be with you when you do than have you remember it while you’re alone somewhere, without me.

I had a dream last night that we lived together in the Hamptons house. All I wanted to do when I woke up was go back to sleep, but having you in my arms was better than any dream.

I hope you remember. I hope this is what it takes to bring you back to me. Having your body isn’t the same as having your heart. It’s your heart I’m still longing for. I’ll never rest until I get you back. I love you so completely, I can’t remember who I am without you.

I’m barely breathing as I lower the paper to my lap. It’s a good thing his message was short since tears now blur my eyes and blind me to the room. What do I do now? I already believed he loved me in his way, even if love and possession tend to mean the same thing to him.

But reading the words he wrote straight from his heart is another story. Touching the paper where his pen indented the page, he poured himself out to me in these letters. He could’ve burned them after I left, but instead, he hid them where he knew I would find them.

He still believes in us.

My tears start dripping onto the page, so I put it with the others before wiping my cheeks with trembling hands. What am I supposed to do now? How do I turn my back when I know how he feels?

My heart jumps at a sharp knock against the front door. The guards don’t usually disturb me when they’re changing shifts. I don’t need an announcement.

All at once, I jump to my feet, sure it’s Luca. That he couldn’t stay away another minute, like somehow, he knew I discovered his letters and would want nothing more than to hold him as soon as I read them.

Still, I hesitate before flinging the door open. “Who is it?” I call out before biting my lip.

“It’s Craig.”

Of all people. My heart sinks as quickly as it soared before I open the door to find my ex-partner standing in front of me. Right away, I sense something is wrong thanks to his scowl and what looks like a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Are you okay?” I ask, opening the door wider for him to come in.

“I wish I could tell you I was,” he says with a sigh. “But I’m afraid we have a very big problem.”

17

LUCA

The knuckles of my right hand are bruised and a little swollen in the aftermath of a long and brutal questioning last night. It’s been a long time since I’ve let my fists do the talking for me. Violence is never a problem, but over the years, I’ve become comfortable using weapons and tools rather than my right and left hand. That comfort is coming back to kick me in the ass as I walk to the kitchen to grab some ice and wince as I flex my hand.

Cesco’s presence at the kitchen table surprises me. He’s digging into a serving bowl full of cereal and barely looks up from it when I enter the room. “Hungry?” I ask on my way through.

“I figured if we’re going out again tonight, I better make sure I eat plenty to keep my strength up,” he retorts. I turn away from the freezer, ice in hand, to find him slurping milk straight from the bowl.

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