Page 19 of Lost Summer
“What?” I blinked, my head struggling to swim back into this version of my life.
“The one all the celebs got,” she said, pressing her phone against her chest and rolling her eyes simultaneously. “It smells like their…you know!”
“Right,” I muttered, shutting the laptop lid with finality. “Brilliant. Shall we get food and maybe walk by the canal?” I needed fresh air. The penthouse walls always felt like they were watching, expectant with Elena’s click-clack heels and a tight schedule.
She turned her ocean-blue eyes on me, confused. “Now?”
“No, next week,” I replied dryly.
She laughed, a sparkling high-pitched trill that didn’t touch her eyes. “Oh, Edward, you’re such a joker. I can’t go—Gordon’s out for lunch.”
Gordon was Elena’s bodyguard, and she wouldn’t go anywhere without him.
“Well, you know I can’t just go out. It’s risky.” She winked, her red-tinted lips pulling back into a smile, though it was the briefest of moves. “I’d love to, baby, but I’ve got a livestream in twenty. Plus, Korean food sounds so good right now. Bring me something back?”
I swallowed the sigh that was struggling to get out of my throat. The idea of a quiet walk, just the two of us—the idle chatter, no followers, no filters—felt more distant than it should. Without answering, I pulled on my trainers and grabbed my jacket, slipping past her and the inevitable collection of assistants.
The weather was still crisp and chilly, but the sun did its best to warm the air. It wasn’t working, but it at least looked nice. Atthe last second, I dodged a black cab, the honk loud enough to punch adrenaline into my bloodstream.
Taking a breath, I inhaled the smell of street food mingling with the exhaust of city buses. Rows of narrow shops leaned into each other, filled with quirky clothing, dusty antiques, and the occasional charity store where forgotten treasures waited to be found.
I walked without direction, guided instead by the sheer need to move, to feel something other than the cage I lived in—designer furniture, polished floors.
I was sick of it.
An older couple was sitting on the bench overlooking the canal, and I was treated to snippets of their conversation about how this place had looked fifty years ago. I pressed on, feeling better already for being outside in the fresh air.
I paused before an office building gleaming in the sun. ‘The Morning Standard’ was inscribed in bold letters, commanding attention. I sucked in a breath, and my pulse surged with a memory. I exhaled slowly, my gaze travelling slowly upwards—toward the floors, the height, where somewhere within, Adele worked, poring over pages in the quiet focus she’d always had.
I shouldn’t be here.
But I couldn’t help it.
Get a grip, man. You’re getting married.
The memory of her pulled at me and dragged me back to the festival like a tether I hadn’t known existed until it yanked sharply and suddenly. I remembered it so vividly. The way her laughter had sounded on the summer wind, a sound that fit so perfectly amongst the sounds drifting from the stage; I’d felt it, raw and unpolished, the connection of two strangers who, for a brief moment, danced like they’d never known separation.
How had I let her go?
That rainstorm—the one that turned the festival’s sprawling fields into churned rivers of mud—was our undoing. People scattered like ants, desperate to escape the downpour, and I—too oblivious at the time—had thought we’d have just one more song, one more kiss, one more moment before it all slipped down the mountain of reality.
I had no doubt that I’d fallen in love with Adele that weekend, but despite the staggering amount of beer I’d consumed, of course, I couldn’t tell her that. She’d have run a mile.
But then she disappeared.
I’d waited. I didn’t know what I thought would happen, but I waited, drenched to my skin, hoping to see that wild, untamed smile one last time.
I never saw her again. Not until now.
Tugging my hands over my face, I replayed our conversation at the fateful engagement party. Adele had been composed, but I saw the intensity beneath her words.
That summer was dead and gone—hidden beneath the designer suits and diamond-studded paths I’d chosen—but the memories had never truly dimmed. No matter how much I’d wanted them to.
Elena? Did I love her? Probably not. Maybe at first…but I didn’t love the life she came with. A life bustling with flashing bulbs, grand parties—all of which I hated.
But the heart wants what it wants—that’s the dangerous truth, right?
I had to forget Adele.
