Page 162 of Sin With Me

“Right.” He reached forward over the table for my hand and lowered his lips to leave their warm trail on my skin. Shivers ran up my spine as he said, “And later I promise to spoil youtoo.”

“OK, try the chocolate mousse. It’s delicious.” I passed him a spoonful across the table.

“Mousse, muse, moose. They all sound the same. I may need another private English lesson from you, Emma.”

“Every time I give you a lesson, we end up inbed.”

“That’s the best way to learn.” He took the spoonful I offered into his mouth.

“I’ll tell you a secret, Emma.” He motioned with his finger, beckoning me to lean in toward him, before he whispered, “You taste much sweeter. Let’s go home, my moose.”

I’ll never forget those words, as they were his last. With the exception of somehow feeling David’s heavy body on top of mine, as he whispered Everything will be all right, my moose, my memory didn’t let me recall what happened next. But my family told me enough to fill in the missing pieces.

A ship carrying propane tanks that was passing by the restaurant had exploded, tearing half the restaurant apart. Apparently David had jumped on top of me to protect me, saving my life. When firefighters pulled us out of the rubble, we were both unconscious. A metal rod had pierced the top of my leg and David’s lower abdomen, joining us. Shards of glass were embedded into his back and his head, killing him, as his body acted as a shield to mine. It wasn’t until I got to the hospital that his body was torn away frommine.

I was allowed to leave the hospital for one hour to attend David’s funeral. His parents came, and when given the chance to take his body back to his homeland, they refused. In that single moment I was happy that David wasn’t there to witness it. It broke my heart. But I promised David that he’d never be forgotten. There would never be a day without a flower on his grave. He would always own a piece of my heart. After the funeral, as my brothers pushed my wheelchair toward the car, David’s parents screamed at me, It’s your fault. It’s your fault. I lowered my head and couldn’t even reply.

I didn’t speak for weeks while in recovery, not even to any of my family members. They thought I’d gone insane. And then one day, they wheeled Grace into my room. I recognized her funky haircut immediately, and we had an instant connection that grew into a friendship closer than many sisters probably had. She was the only one who understood my pain, because just like me, that night, Grace had lost her love as well, her fiancée who had proposed to her that fateful evening. We made a pact, and as soon as I was able to, I moved out of my parents’ house and into Tristan’s old condo in Manhattan, where as it turned out Grace had her apartment three floors belowme.

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