Page 67 of Before You Say Goodbye

She was still awake when Bowie jolted upright just after midnight, holding his chest and gasping for breath. He stumbled out of the bed. Autumn rushed after him.

“Bowie?” She reached for him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, staggering towards the door. “It hurts.”

“Stop! Bowie, please. Stop.”

He crumpled to the floor in the doorway, clutching his heart. Autumn threw herself down beside him and held his face in her hands. Her palms shook violently against his cheeks.

“What’s happening?” she asked. “Bowie? Are you having another heart attack?”

He leaned back against the door and stared up at her. He looked afraid. Lost. She reached for his hand and held on tightly. She didn’t know what to do. She started to cry.

“Don’t.” He shook his head. “Please don’t.”

She brushed her tears away, nodding. Bowie had never been able to cope with seeing her upset and it was the last thing he needed from her right now.

“What can I do?” she asked. “Shall I go and get Maddie?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Please don’t get any of them.”

“Bowie, I have to.”This could be it.

“They don’t need to see this,” he said. “Please don’t leave me on my own, Autumn.”

He groaned and fell against her chest. She held his head to her heart and stroked his hair, telling him, hysterically, over and over again that everything would be OK. His breathing wasraspy and laboured. He wound his fist in her pyjama top every now and then, biting down on the fabric through a wave of pain. Autumn expected him to die every time, but his breath would catch again and he would cling inexplicably to life. They sat holding each other, willing the morning to come quickly. Things always felt less scary in daylight. Autumn watched the sun begin to rise through a gap in the curtains, following its rays as they crept across the bedroom floor towards their bare feet. She thought Bowie had fallen asleep until he spoke.

“It’s so beautiful,” he whispered. They were the first words he had spoken since he’d begged her not to leave him hours earlier.

“It is.” She turned to kiss his forehead. His skin felt unhealthily clammy against her lips. At some point his breathing had steadied. She was sure now that the worst wasn’t happening just yet, but reasonably confident he’d had another heart attack. Autumn thanked the universe silently for letting her keep him a little while longer, feeling selfish as she did so. Bowie was in pain. He wanted it to be over. She knew he’d probably hoped he would die in her arms.

“I love you, Autumn,” he said into the silence.

“Now?” she asked him, shaking her head. “This is the moment you’d have chosen if we hadn’t had our fight?”

He laughed softly, coughing and clutching at his chest.

“No,” he said when he’d caught his breath. “I just realise how stupid I’ve been. Imagine if I’d died and never had the chance to say it to you ever again? I should have been telling you every minute of every day from the moment I first felt it.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

“I love you too, Bowie,” she said. “You’re too fucking romantic for your own good.”

He sighed.

“Rule Number Five,” he said. She giggled. They hadn’t played this game in a while.

“Always tell people you love them when you feel it,” she said.

Chapter 13

Once she felt it was safe for him to move, Autumn helped Bowie back into bed. It was ten in the morning and they could hear the house teeming with nervous energy. The Whittles were blissfully oblivious to the tragedy that had almost unfolded below them as they slept. Cautiously, Autumn asked Bowie how he wanted her to tell them that they would not be attending the ball that evening— clearly he was far too sick — but he shook his head vehemently in defiance.

“We’re still going,” he said. She blinked at him, blindsided.

“Bowie—”

“Don’t fight with me,” he said belligerently. “We’re going.”

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