Page 59 of Finally Forever
He’s remembering, he just doesn’t know it. And he let me talk about our past. He was engaged. It was a win in my book.
I shift under the covers and feel the remnants of dried sweat on my skin. This is why showering is important after vigorous sex. Oh, and peeing! I didn’t pee!
I spring from the bed and race to the bathroom to pee and shower. An hour later, because I washed and dried my hair, I emerge. I drag on a pair of fleece leggings, a cropped white furry sweater, and snow boots. I want to explore the grounds after breakfast.
I haven’t unpacked my suitcase because I don’t know how long we’re staying here. I grab my puffer coat and stop at Sebastian’s bedroom door. It’s open and his room is empty. Hmm?
I stroll to the kitchen, resisting the urge to skip. A cleaning lady from the other day washes dishes at the sink.
“Good morning,” she greets me with a neutral smile.
“Morning.” The chairs at the table look a little crooked. “Do you know if anyone had breakfast yet?”
“Yes,” she says in that European accent. “Two men. They left. I’m cleaning up after them.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” I text Xavier.
Me: Hey. Are you up?
I hope I’m not disturbing him. He doesn’t sleep at night when we relocate and only sleeps during the day when Sebastian is awake.
Xavier: I’m up. Do you need me?
If he’s up, Sebastian is gone. I slump. The snow looks thicker today than when we arrived. Other than trees and a gorgeous outdoor fire pit area and grill, I don’t see anyone walking around.
Me: Where did Sebastian go?
And why didn’t he tell me he was leaving? Two steps forward, one step back.
Xavier: He and Nathan took out the snowmobiles this morning before the new snow melts and gets too thin. Where are you?
Me: The kitchen. I’m fine. I don’t need anything, just wanted to know where he went.
Xavier: I’m in the control room on the other side of the house. If you need me, just text.
“Miss, would you like breakfast?” asks the lady at the sink. “Oscar prepared cheese omelets, maple bourbon bacon, and toast with homemade raspberry jam. I can reheat the leftovers.”
“Oscar is the chef?”
“Yes.” She dries her hands on a paper towel, eager to help.
It isn’t her job to serve me, and even if it was, I still like to do things myself. That part of me will never change, no matter how much money, luxury, or house staff Sebastian brings on. I cave sometimes and enjoy the benefits of being waited on but mostly after being nagged. Estella nagged me for weeks before I gave in and let her do it all—she prided herself on managing that villa. Was it only a few weeks ago that we were living in the south of France?
“I can help myself. Thank you.”
“Yes, miss. Leave your dishes in the sink for me to clean.”
“Thank you,” I say.
As soon as she leaves the kitchen, I let out a sigh I’d been holding at the thought of France.
In my mind, Sebastian, Nathan, and I were having breakfast together this morning, sharing stories about the past and laughing. My mind is more optimistic than reality.
In the pantry, I grab a Kind bar from the unopened box, knowing it’d be there—it’s always on the shopping list—and eat it while staring out the window near the fireplace. This one looks out to the woods. I listen for snowmobiles but hear nothing. They must be far away or on the other side of the property.
I would have liked to have gone with them. Sebastian doesn’t remember our weekend in the Swiss Alps and how we rode snowmobiles with Xavier around the chalet we’d rented.
It’s fine. He’s bonding with Nathan, reconnecting and hopefully unlocking the trapped memories in his brain.
