Page 60 of Don't Forget Me
He’d tried to avoid thoughts of the charity gala, the moments he remembered of it anyway. Sherrie yelling at him… and then, nothing.
Yet, he’d driven drunk.
He didn’t even remember driving there, but he must have taken a rental instead of calling for a driver. Made sense. He’d have wanted to leave early, and being able to get himself back to the hotel was paramount to that.
But drunk driving?
It wasn’t exactly a new pastime in Hollywood, but he’d always considered it the ultimate act of selfishness, a crime worthy of punishment.
Every time he started to wish he could stay here with Liz forever, he thought of the two kids back in Florida missing their mom. A person like her was sure to be missed by everyone who’d ever met her should she not wake, and the world would be a worse place.
Him?
He sighed, reaching for the mug he’d set on the arm of the chair and taking a long drink of his coffee.
The first raindrop hit his cheek, and he looked to the sky, wondering how it possibly reflected the storm brewing inside him.
A few more drops of rain broke free, striking his head and rolling down his face.
It wasn’t until one hit the book in his lap that he decided it was time to go in.
As he closed the door behind him, thunder shook the world and a torrent of rain pounded down from the skies. Standing at the glass door, he watched the storm rage for a moment longer before looking toward Liz’s door.
Ever since her confession, it was like she gave herself permission to rest. She’d realized she didn’t have to be on all the time just to prove to herself she was healthy, and he was glad for it.
He wished he could say the cancer didn’t affect how he saw her, but that would have been a lie. He’d been wrong before. Liz wasn’t impervious to pain, she didn’t smile because there was only joy inside her.
Instead, she smiled because she had to, because the alternative would have hurt worse.
Setting the book on the kitchen counter, he opened the fridge, staring at the contents that never seemed to run out. For as long as they’d been there, Liz took care of him. He hadn’t seen it at first. It was more than the food.
She challenged him, tested him, and made him want something more.
Now, it was his turn to take care of her.
21
ELIZABETH
Something was burning.
Not exactly the best smell to wake up to.
“What on earth?” Liz kicked off the covers and forced herself from the bed to find out what was going on. Nick hadn’t been there when she’d woken up a few hours ago, but she rolled over and went back to sleep.
Now, she was wide awake.
“Crap crap crap.” Nick stood on a chair, waving a towel at the smoke curling up toward a fire detector.
Liz barely had time to take in his ridiculousness before a screeching sound pierced the air, drilling all the way down into her skull.
Acting on instinct, she ran to the windows nearest the kitchen and threw them open, letting the wind from the storm outside rush in, carrying with it a spray of rain.
Smoke billowed from the oven, and Liz ducked around Nick to grab the potholder and opened the door, getting a face full of steam. When it cleared, she found the pan and pulled it out, catching sight of black char creeping over the edges of what looked like a quiche.
A quiche?
She didn’t have time to question why Nick was trying to make something so ambitious because she found the problem. The egg mixture had spilled over the side of the pie plate and coated the bottom of the oven.
