Page 68 of Don't Forget Me
“But you and me… this is fate. Can’t you see that? We were brought here for a reason.”
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye as she continued with the scene, stopping only to wipe her face as more and more tears poured down over her cheeks.
These two characters came together despite the odds. They were never supposed to meet, but they did, and now she wanted Max to remember everything they’d meant to each other, to not forget her.
As the story drew to a close, Liz came to a realization she’d feared. There would be no happy ending for Ann and Max. The writer—Stephen—seemed to be making the point that not all stories turn out like the readers wanted them to. Maybe that was why he hadn’t been able to sell the script.
No one wanted reality. They wanted the fantasy of a forever love, the dream of two people loving each other until the day they died.
A sob caught in her throat, and she threw the script across the room. It hit a lamp, knocking it to the ground.
She thought of Evelyn and Owen as she cried, feeling them reaching out to her. A pressure on her hand. A breath on her neck.
A cacophony of sounds she couldn’t make out. She needed to return. For them. She had to fight.
So, why was it so hard?
She took in the room she’d become so familiar with in her time here, the high ceilings and wide windows that let the moonlight stream through. She couldn’t see the lake from here, but she knew it was there, shining in the starlight like a beacon calling to her.
Her hands gripped the edge of the bed as pain ricocheted through her, and she grit her teeth to keep from calling out. Tears danced in her lashes, but not for the life she felt returning to her. They were for everything she knew she’d leave behind.
A cry escaped her before she could stop it, and moments later her door whipped open. Nick ran in, dropping to his knees beside the bed. “Liz, what’s wrong?”
There was no more hiding the emotions with tears staining her cheeks and hands fisted in the blankets. “Nick.” A sob bubbled up from her throat.
Nick stood and climbed into bed beside her, gathering her in his arms. “Shh, I’ve got you. You’re okay.” His breath ruffled the hair near her ear, but she could barely feel it.
She could barely feel him.
“I can’t…” The words stumbled from her lips. “Nick, I can’t breathe.” Her breaths struggled with short gasps.
“What’s happening, Liz? You’re scaring me.”
“I don’t…” She stopped herself from saying she didn’t know. That would have been a lie because she’d already guessed it. Turning her face up to his, she said the words that ended the dream they’d been living in. “I think I’m waking up.”
It was the only explanation for the weakness that had returned that morning, the pain she couldn’t rid herself of now. Her mind was returning to the weak body, the one lying in a hospital bed so very far away from here.
“No.” He pressed the side of his face to hers, their tears mingling. “I’m not ready.”
“I don’t think we get a choice.” She coughed, struggling to draw in a breath.
Nick’s arms tightened around her. “I won’t let you go. Not ever. Do you hear me? Even in the real world. Remember, it’s you and me.”
He’d promised her, and she believed him. She believed in him.
His hands roamed over her, smoothing her hair, traveling down her damp cheeks to her shoulders. They slid down her arms before twisting their fingers together, palm to palm.
She closed her eyes, losing herself in the faint feel of him, the hard strength at her back. The words she’d been unable to say came unbidden to her lips. “I love you.” They left her on a shaky breath, one that took much more than the air from her lungs.
Nick pressed his lips to her ear. “I knew that, but thanks for saying it. You, Elizabeth Ross, are magnificent. Don’t you ever forget that.”
His words trailed off, but she could see his lips continue to move, the sound leaving him and never quite reaching her.
Already, they existed in two separate worlds.
Other voices closed in on her amidst the quiet beeping of a monitor.
The image of Nick grew hazier the louder that all became, and when a tiny voice reached her ears, he disappeared altogether.
