Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 149606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 748(@200wpm)___ 598(@250wpm)___ 499(@300wpm)
My heartbeat echoes in my ears, and I stare at him until he turns into a watery blur as hot tears spill uncontrollably from my eyes.
He doesn’t see me.
He hasn’t really seen me since I woke up. When he looks at me, all he sees are ghosts.
I don’t want to be the living dead anymore.
I want to live, love, and be loved…and I want it all with him.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Words hurt, even when unintentional.
If they had the power to kill, I’m pretty sure I just verbally murdered my wife.
Tears are flowing from her beautiful green eyes, tracking over flushed, angry pink cheeks. Her quivering lips are slightly parted as she gasps for breath between silent sobs.
She’s dying right in front of me, all over again.
And once again, I want to die right along with her, because this, too, is my fault.
I ache to take her in my arms and shower her with kisses. Hug her until our hearts beat in perfect sync again.
That may have worked in the past, but it’s not gonna cut it now. I have no fucking idea what will help right now, and it’s absolutely scaring the shit out of me.
Why can’t I make things right?
“So what you’re saying is,” she sniffles and blinks back eyeliner-tinged tears, “that you don’t feel comfortable touching me because you’re still thinking of me as a plant. Or a vessel. Comatose.”
I cringe at those words. They’re so ugly. They remind me of the vegetable description I despise so much. “I guess if you want to put it that way…yeah. But it’s so much deeper than that, Em. I’m not some shallow asshole. I think you’re gorgeous. This isn’t about looks in any way.”
“I know,” she says softly. “I know you’re not like that. But why look at the pictures? I don’t understand.”
Fuck. How do I explain what I’m doing when I don’t even understand what I’m doing?
When the hell did I become so inept?
When did I start to fall apart?
“I think, in a way, I wanted to obliterate the past eight years, get all those images and constant worry out of my head. Get myself back to who I was before.” I swallow and try to sort through my jumbled thoughts. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I don’t think it’s just you who forgot who you were. I think along the way, I forgot who I was too.”
She looks down at the little butterfly ring on her finger as she contemplates this, then nods slowly. “You went through a horrible thing too. I don’t think anyone can go through that without coming out changed.”
I let that sink in. Deep down, I know she’s right. I was a fool to think that I’d be invincible to any repercussions from what we’ve gone through.
I thought our biggest hurdle would be her memory loss.
I was wrong.
“I never meant to hurt you. I never thought of the photos as emotionally cheating on you, Em. I wouldn’t do that. They helped me remember what we had and what we can have again. I’ve been looking at them for years, not just recently. It helped keep your memory alive. It helped me stay connected to you.”
She grabs my arm. “I need you to see me as me. This new me. Not as photos from the past. You have to let go and stop resurrecting the old Ember.” She stands up and points at the iPad. “Those memories, that person, is dead, Asher. I’m alive.”
Sucking in a deep breath, she walks toward Teddy like she’s on a mission. I grab her wrist before she gets there. “Em, please don’t walk away.”
She gently pulls her arm from my fingers.
“You have to make the choice of who you really want, Asher. As crazy as that sounds, that’s where we are.”
My chest aches, as if my heart is being torn in half. I don’t know how to let go of the woman she used to be, and I’m not sure I want to. The crazy truth is, I’m in love with them both, and I’m slowly losing my mind trying to make sense of it.
“I want to go to Katherine’s alone,” she says when I don’t respond. “Me and Teddy.”
“What? No. You can’t drive all the way to Maine by yourself. That’s an almost three-hour drive. You’ve never—”
“Stop it!” she yells. “I’m a grown woman! I know how to drive. I used to travel all over the world on buses and planes, and I’ve driven all over the place too. Stop treating me like I can’t do anything!”
I step back from her unexpected outburst. “Sorry. I’m just worried about you.”
She grabs the suitcase and yanks it off the bed. “That’s part of the problem. You’re an amazing man, Asher. I appreciate that you care about me so much, but I want you to treat me like your wife. Your currently alive and breathing wife, not an invalid.”