Page 24 of Finally Forever
“On it,” Xavier says, then stands.
“Should I let Ainsley back in?”
Should he? Yes. Do I want to deal with her right now? No.
I meet Xavier’s gaze. His frown says he knows my answer.
“I’d like to rest.” He knows I’m lying, I’m sure of it. “Tell her to do the same, and I’ll contact her when I’m ready.”
He nods, disappointment clear in his eyes. It says he likes and respects Ainsley, which says a lot about her as a person. I don’t want to hurt her more than I’m sure she is already, but I can’t be who she wants me to be. I could tell by the heartache in those sage eyes that she’s desperate for me to remember something—tofeelsomething. It’s not there.
I feel nothing.
10
Ainsley
“Thanks,” I say to Xavier as he closes the car door.
We didn’t talk at all on the way home from the hospital. I didn’t want to leave, but he assured me I should rest so I can be refreshed to see Sebastian when he’s ready.
He has some light rehabilitation to do, and he needs rest to fully heal. He chose not to be treated at home. In the past, Sebastian wouldn’t have done that. He hates hospitals, which means he’s staying there to avoid me.
The pain that hits my heart each time I acknowledge that fact steals my breath. My stomach feels hollow—make that my entire body. Part of me wants to cry. It’s too familiar to the loss I felt when I thought he’d died. It took me months to pull myself out of the dark, depressing hole consuming my world. If I fall into that hole again, I’ll drown. I know it.
I follow Xavier into the house, my shoulders hanging so low I’m surprised they’re not dragging on the floor. I don’t want to see anyone, especially Estella.
She’ll see right through my façade, if I can even construct one, and try to heal me with dessert when all I want to do is curl up in my bed and cry. But I can’t feel sorry for myself. I’m not the one who lost my memory.
I can’t imagine what that feels like. Sebastian must be furious with himself, like he has some control over what happened. Even if he’d had his migraines checked earlier, would it have stopped his brain from swelling? I don’t know enough about the brain and how that works. Once again, I find myself wishing I could talk to my mom to ask her. I need to remind myself that the fantasy version I create of her—a woman who cares and wants to listen and help—is just that. A fantasy version. The real her would judge me and criticize my decisions. She doesn’t know how to be nice. Her mother wasn’t kind to her either, and she repeated that behavior to me. I suppose if you’ve never known unconditional love, you can’t know how to give it.
I learned through Sebastian. Together, we learned how to love and respect each other. We taught ourselves, and it was a beautiful process. Not always. In the beginning, the fear and uncertainty surrounding us presented a challenge. I like to leave that in the past, though, where it belongs. Which brings me to the real terror plaguing my body and mind. What if Sebastian doesn’t remember me? What if I become a thing of his past?
He will never be my past, only my future. A future I want so desperately with him but now fear it may be lost to me. When the doctor said familiar things and people would help Sebastian retrieve his memories, he didn’t look at me or even ask about our life. This home is familiar.Iam familiar. It would appear he wants nothing to do with us, though.
My feet drag across the floor as I enter the bedroom. It feels colder. The view doesn’t grip me with its beauty and lure me onto the terrace like it usually does. I aim for the bed and crash on top of Sebastian’s side, burying my face in his pillow and inhaling his scent.
Please say I haven’t lost him. Please.
The sound of the vacuum in the other room wakes me from my nap. No doubt, Estella wants to disturb my sleep, to feed or check on me. Xavier probably told her about Sebastian. We can’t keep something like this a secret. She would be confused as hell if she saw him, and he didn’t recognize her.
I roll onto my back and push my hair out of my face. Was it just the other night that Sebastian made passionate love to me in this bed? Will he ever again? Every cell in my body cries out for him. We fought too hard to get here for this to be over.
Determined to get him to remember me—to acknowledge me—I scramble from the bed. The clock reads 9:30 PM. I still have time to visit him at the hospital. What if he’s sleeping, though? I can’t risk announcing I’m coming. He might refuse to see me. It needs to be a surprise.
I take a fast shower, trying my hardest not to relive the many times Sebastian took me against the wall. Once I’m clean and dressed, I do a rush blow-dry on my hair, leaving it partially damp. For a moment, I debate whether to dress nicer and do my makeup. My Sebastian wouldn’t care. This Sebastian might need wooing. Ugh. I hate that I’m even thinking this way.
When we first got together, he saw me both as a mess and in party clothes. He didn’t seem to be swayed by either; however, he did love a dress I wore to meet him at the movies—our first movie date, which turned into a disaster when I unintentionally confessed my love for him.
If I hadn’t blurted those words, he wouldn’t have said them back later at the RV he bought because of me and the place where we made love for the first time.
Why am I killing myself with these memories? If ever there was a time to be in the present moment, it’s now.
When I exit the bedroom, Estella stops me. As I had expected, she was hoping I’d come out.
“Ma choupette,” she says, calling mesweetie. She only uses the French endearment when I’m not feeling well. “Can I get you something to eat?” She lists multiple foods, each of which she knows I love.
I don’t want to offend her, so I nod. “I’ll have a cheese crepe, please. And one for me to bring to the hospital for Sebastian, if that’s all right.” They’re our favorite.
