Page 50 of Still The One

‘Escargots,’ she says with a sweet smile. She eagerly pierces one with her fork. Her expression turns to pure delight as she chews.

‘You’re a little grosser than I remember.’

She nearly snorts laughter.

‘Seriously? Snails?’ I ask, poking my fork around my plate. No way she’s not messing with me.

‘It’s a very popular food,’ she says. ‘You’d know that if you didn’t eat at Burger King every day of your life.’

‘I prefer McDonald’s.’

She rolls her eyes playfully.

‘Fine, fine,’ she chuckles. ‘Stick to your fast food, Mr Gourmet.’ She dabs at the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she reaches for her nearly empty wine glass. ‘But you’re missing out on a whole world of flavors.’ She stabs at another ‘snail’ delicately. ‘Try it, just this once. For me?’ Her expression is pleading, her lips quirked in an endearing grin.

I sigh dramatically, feigning reluctance as I pick up my fork and reluctantly poke at one of the snail shapes. As I lift it to my mouth, she watches intently, a mix of amusement and anticipation in her gaze. With a deep breath, I close my eyes and take a bite.

This little liar. The cheese-filled tortellini explodes on my tongue, surprising me with its richness and complexity. Opening my eyes, I meet hers, now gleaming with triumph.

‘Well?’ she asks eagerly, almost unable to hold back her laughter.

Our gazes meet and if that smile didn’t melt my heart, I could probably find words to say that are more flattering than ‘Wow, it’s familiar and amazing. You make this twice a month?’

The night we spontaneously got married, we wandered into a tiny Italian restaurant where the server convinced us to make us a special ‘wedding night’ meal. This was that meal. Is that why she still makes it? I mean, she did say she had to dig for the recipe; that’s something, isn’t it?

‘This is the first time I’ve made it. I had to email the guy who owns that restaurant for the recipe. I thought it might be fun to relive something while we’re both awake, and food seemed safe.’

She wants to relive something while not dreaming? I set my fork on my plate and rub my chest.

‘Are you alright?’ she asks, suddenly concerned, reaching out to touch my shoulder.

‘I’m fine, just been experiencing some unexpected stabbing pain lately,’ I explain. No way can I tell her – yet – that those pains are in my heart.

Regret is painful. Like physically so. I know for a fact there is nothing wrong with my heart as it’s recently been inspected – but it hurts. I took her for granted and failed to show her the appreciation she deserved, and in the five years we’ve been apart, I’ve tried absolutely nothing to get her back, yet here I sit in her kitchen, eating a meal she cooked for me willingly, that reminds us both of a memory she’s probably tried to forget.

‘I’m glad it’s not snails. Honestly, I think you made it better than the original.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’

She smiles sweetly. ‘I guess you weren’t all I fell in love with that night.’

I stare at her, stunned by her words. This is the first time she’s mentioned loving me. ‘Are you flirting with me, Jellybean? In the apartment?’

She laughs, shaking her head and turning her attention back to her meal. ‘No. Just allowing myself to remember something I’d previously forced myself to forget, that’s all.’

‘Did you really forget me? Us?’

‘I tried,’ she says with a shrug. ‘But it never really worked. Once a year Facebook would remind me, and I’d spend the next three hundred and sixty-five days attempting to block it from mymind, but truthfully’ – she looks up from her plate at me – ‘and I promised myself I’d never say this out loud – but my heart would never let it go.’

‘“It” as in me?’

She nods, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously, a hint of vulnerability crossing her features. ‘Yes, you. Us. Everything we had and everything we lost. It’s funny how memories never truly fade, isn’t it? They linger in the corners of our minds, waiting for a moment of weakness to resurface.’

‘To be fair, you should know you’re not the only one who tried to bury those memories away.’

Her eyes reflect a mix of emotions – nostalgia, regret, and a hint of longing. ‘I thought time would make it easier, that distance would fade the memories, but then you were wheeled into my trauma room and I realized some connections are just too strong to sever,’ she murmurs.

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