Page 30 of Finally Forever
His sideways glance says,like I don’t know that.
My chin trembles again. I drop onto a nearby chair to keep from collapsing on the floor from heartache. “This is hard,” I confess, my gaze on the coffee table. “I’m not ready to leave here. This house and the view are like a dream. We were—” I stop myself from saying we were going to stay here for a while. That was the plan. He doesn’t remember, and by the bored look on his face, he doesn’t care.
His phone beeps with a text, and his attention returns to his conversation with Nathan or Riley or both.
I don’t know, and he isn’t interested in sharing.
The harder part about this is accepting the—hopefully temporary—loss of my best friend and love of my life.
Give him some time. I repeat the words the nurse told me when I left the hospital in tears.
Time, I have. Patience, not so much. Perhaps this is a lesson I’m to master.
I am happy that he gets to reunite with his best friends. After everything he’s endured, he deserves happiness, friendship, love, and everything else good in life. More than anything, I want to be a part of those things.
Pushing aside my emotions, I stand and continue packing up memories, history, and the future we might have had here.
This is the last week we have in this house. I moved into the guest room to give Sebastian the privacy he seems to need. I also didn’t want him to move from his bedroom. If familiarity is key, he belongs there, with or without me. Without me seems to be his choice. He didn’t kick me out, but I didn’t want him to feel obligated to sleep next to a stranger. For all I know, it could slow his improvement, and that’s the last thing I want.
As for me, I’m not sleeping well at all. The other night, I tried sleeping on the terrace daybed under the stars like Sebastian and I did on our second night of living here. That was four months ago. We were both in awe of the beauty and of our love and passion. It was magical. A moment you don’t get back. I’ll pack that memory up too and take it with me, along with all the others we made together.
12
Ainsley
I wake up in the guest room bed for the last time.
Today we leave.
As with most things Sebastian does, his recovery has been exceptional. His physical therapist and neurologist cleared him for travel yesterday, as long as he finds a neurologist in America and continues to be monitored. Apart from regaining his memories, he’s the picture of health. Even his migraines are gone.
I’m beyond happy for him. I’d be even happier if he’d let me try to help him remember our past together. The most one-on-one time I’ve had with him since his release from the hospital is during breakfast when we eat together on the terrace.
He never invited me to join him. I was fed up with how he avoided the first two days he was home, so I invited myself. I don’t force him to spend time with me otherwise, but I decided breakfast could be mine. Mostly, we make small talk, but I earned a smile from him yesterday that was so bright and sexy it almost knocked me on my ass. I love when he smiles.
When we first met, he didn’t smile much, either. I brought out a playful side of him that I miss like crazy. Almost as much as I miss his arms around me, and his eyes devouring me as he claims my body like he can’t get enough.
I roll onto my side and check the time on my phone. Three hours until we leave. I never used to wake up early on purpose, but sleep treats me like an enemy these days. I’d like to blame my insomnia on the bed not being soft enough or the room not being cool enough. Neither are true. My body wants to sleep next to Sebastian, so I can touch him and feel him touch me.
I stumble to the bathroom, where I brush my teeth and wash my face. I still sleep in one of Sebastian’s white T-shirts, but when I walk around in front of him, I wear sleep pants or leggings. I haven’t bothered adding a bra to the mix, hoping to entice him maybe or jog his memory with my breasts. A girl can dream.
Like I have for the last few mornings, I color my lips with tinted gloss and sweep mascara over my lashes. Nothing heavy. I want to appear naturally beautiful. So far, nothing close to interest has shown in Sebastian’s eyes.
When I exit through the patio doors, I find Sebastian dressed and ready. His breakfast—ham and cheese egg soufflé—remains untouched on the table and mine is still covered by a silver lid.
“Morning.” I slide onto the chair across from him. It kisses the balcony, giving us a beautiful view of the Bay of Cassis. A gentle breeze sends wisps of my hair across my face. I tuck the strands behind my ears, then gesture to Sebastian’s plate. “Not hungry?”
He drags his gaze from the sea view. “I was waiting for you.”
“Oh?” I sit taller. I’m not any later than usual. He’s never waited before. I lift the lid and set it on the table. A matching egg soufflé rests on my plate.
Brown eyes with blue starbursts connect with mine. “I remembered something. Maybe.”
I resist the urge to jump up and shout,“Tell me? Is it about me? Do you remember us?”From what I’ve read on the internet—and I’ve done a lot of late-night reading—calm responses and little expectation are the best way to approach a situation like ours.
He picks up his fork and bites his soufflé. Stalling? After he chews with all the manners he’s always had, he says, “It was something I dreamed, actually. It could be nothing.”
My stomach tightens. I remind myself to breathe. “Go on.” I fork a small bite to appear normal and not gripped by anxiety.
