Page 27 of Finally Forever
He glances at the window and the darkness beyond. “It’s late. What are you doing here?”
“I came to see how you are. And I brought you food. Your favorite crepes.” I smile and then frown. He doesn’t remember they’re his favorite. “You like them,” I add.
He glances at the bag on the table. “I’m not hungry.”
“That’s okay. You can try it later and see if you still like them. Maybe it will help you remember some things,” I say, hopeful.
He stares at me like I’m a stranger. No, worse, like I’m a nuisance.
Is this how he acted before I got to know him? Cold and indifferent? I suppose his mannerism was the same when we first met. Of course, I did almost hit him in the face with one of the heavy college campus doors.
“Do you mind if I sit?” I gesture to the rolling stool near the bed. The recliner is farther from him than I want to be.
“What is that?” He sniffs the air. “It smells like lemonade and strawberries.”
“It’s me—or—my lotion. You used to like it.” Love it.
His expression remains unreadable.
“Does it bother you now?”
“No.”
Compared to the Sebastian I know and love, this version of him isn’t much of a conversationalist.
I sink onto the stool and look at the TV that’s on in the corner, the sound muted. “What are you watching?”
“Italian news. My grandfather died.”
I gasp. “He did?” We knew it was coming, but then it dragged on, and I stopped asking for daily updates. “So your dad is the…” I don’t sayGodfatherout loud.
Sebastian nods, his gaze a million miles away.
Sorryisn’t an appropriate response or it wouldn’t have been for the Sebastian I know. “Are you okay? Your injury and memory loss aside?”
He blinks as if returning to the present and stares at me, his gaze assessing as he reads me. He did this same thing when we first met. Back then, I found the act intrusive.
Now, I welcome his analysis, so he sees I’m not a problem and that I only want what’s best for him. I love the direct attention, even if it isn’t how it used to be between us or how I long for it to be. It’s better than nothing.
His gaze rakes over me from head to toe, then returns to my hair. “Is that your natural color?”
“Yes.” He used to say I’m a unique mix.
“What’s your ethnicity?”
I fight a smile at his interest. “Greek and Norwegian.”
He nods and gives me another once-over, only this time he’s checking me out.
I hate the concern I feel over not being good enough. We—I—moved past this long ago. Sebastian loves every inch of me. He used to say I’m perfect and perfect for him. I have no idea where I stand with this new, or old, version of him. Gah. Talk about stressful.
I wring my fingers, waiting to be judged by him, wanting him to find me attractive.
“Are you always this nervous around me?”
“No. I didn’t have to be. You loved me—all of me.” Why can’t he remember?
He nods again, although his expression is far from loving.
