Page 140 of Nineteen Letters
Our home, the place I proposed to you and promised to love you until I took my very last breath, whether by fate or pure coincidence, is the number nineteen. I’d like to believe it was fate.
It was not only nineteen years to the day we met that you gave me your hand in marriage, making me the happiest man in the world, it was also the nineteenth.
That’s why I gave you this necklace nineteen days later, with the number nineteen on it. I thought nineteen was the number that symbolised everything we were.Every important milestone we’d experienced together. The number that not only brought us together, but bonded us forever. But I was wrong.
It would also be the number that played a hand in snatching you away from me, shattering my world and everything I held dear. You were my life and without you by my side, I could no longer breathe.
If nineteen years is all I’m allowed, then I’ll take it. Meeting you enriched my world in so many ways, and I’ll forever cherish every second you were mine.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think the day would come when I would no longer be your forever boy.
Braxton
I stare down at the necklace in my hand, and the beautiful diamond-encrusted number-nineteen pendant that hangs from it. I’m not sure if I could stop the tears that now leak from my eyes, even if I tried.
My heart feels like it’s in a thousand tiny pieces. I hate that he thinks he’s no longer my forever boy, and that this is the end of us.
All the anger I felt when I first woke from my coma comes flooding back to the surface. The unfairness of life consumes every inch of me until it’s seeping out of my pores.
I want my old life back. I want to remember every beautiful second … but more than anything, I want to feel it. I want to feel that all-consuming love I once had for him. I want it all, but I can’t have it. Life’s a bitch, and in this moment, I hate her. Ihate her so much I want to scream. But instead, I bury my face in my pillow and sob. I cry for me. I cry for Braxton. But more than anything, I cry for us—for what has been so cruelly taken away. That’s the true injustice here. I cry until the exhaustion consumes me. It’s not until I fall asleep that the tears finally stop …
I’m suddenly thrust into a place that seems familiar, yet I’ve never seen it before. I’m in a large bathroom. I’m surrounded by sky-blue walls and shiny white tiles. There’s a long white vanity in front of me. My eyes focus on the beautiful white shell that sits in between the double sink.
I don’t know where I am, but I feel panicked as I rummage through the make-up bag in front of me. I can’t seem to find what I’m looking for. I open the drawer below the vanity and move a pink brush to the side. “There you are,” I whisper as I grab the lip gloss that is hiding underneath it.
My eyes move back to the long rectangular mirror in front of me. It has recessed lights around the perimeter, illuminating my reflection. I’m rushing now as I put the finishing touches to my make-up.
That’s when I glimpse someone else in the mirror. It’s Braxton. He’s leaning up against the doorframe, watching me. He’s shirtless and wearing a pair of grey sweats that hang low on his hips. I feel my pulse quicken as my eyes rake over his bare chest, and the definition of each delicious muscle. From the perfect V just above the waistband, right up to his washboard abs, and his muscular chest. He has a beautiful body, like a sculptured Greek god.
Only then do my eyes move back to his, and the adoring look on his face sends my heart into a flutter. The sheer love I feel for him in that moment consumes every fibre of my being. I’ve never felt anything like it. It almost takes my breath away.
“How long have you been standing there?” I ask as my mouth curves into a smile.
“I’m just admiring my beautiful wife.”
He pushes off the doorframe and stalks towards me. When his arms encircle my waist, he tugs me back until our bodies are flush and grinds himself against my backside. “Your arse in those pants,” he groans, and a soft moan falls from my mouth as his lips trail a path up my neck. I tilt my head to the side, allowing him better access.
“I’m already running late,” I breathe.
“I wish you didn’t have to go.” His warm breath on my skin leaves goosebumps in its wake.
“Me either.”
“The next eight hours are going to feel like an eternity.”
I sigh in agreement. “I know.”
His tongue glides over the sensitive spot behind my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Don’t make any plans for tonight, because I’m taking you out to dinner.”
“You’re taking me out? Where?”
“The Sea Shanty,” he says over a growl as he sucks my earlobe into his mouth.
“What’s the special occasion?”
“Our anniversary.”
My eyes fly open to meet his in the mirror. “Our what?” My mind races.What anniversary?
