Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
My last move to make, the only chance I have to save myself. I kick and swing, but nothing lands, but I manage enough force to get the words out, “It’s locked in a safe.”
He stops on the edge of the lake. “What is?” When I don’t reply, he drops, bending down to get in my face, and shouts, “What is, Céline?”
“Everything you’ve done.”
We stare at each other, neither blinking, though my lids burn in agony. He finally looks away, but I can tell his mind is spinning, plotting by his narrowed eyes. I take the second to soothe my eyes by closing them. When I open them again, he turns back to me, and says, “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because either way, you’re fucked. You just have to decide whether you want murder added to the charges.”
“Fuck!” he shouts louder, kicking the dirt as he walks away. It coats my lips and sprays my eyes before I can close them.
I’m grabbed like a rag doll and shaken. My brain rattles in my head, intensifying the ache. “Tell me where the safe is.”
I’m dropped, left on the ground, and I can’t help but notice that the sky belies the situation I’m in. Beauty against brutality. “Doesn’t matter.” I manage a grin, but even that causes pain, like every breath I take. “Also, there’s another copy out there for safekeeping.”
I laugh, but it hurts, so I roll my head to the side and watch as he mounts his horse again. I’m not left with a slurry of threats or shaken until I release the location of the safe.
I’m just left.
Trying to bide my time while tears roll down my cheeks, my chest aches and my heart beats hard against my ribs as if it won’t settle until we’re safe in Loch’s arms again. The emptiness of being left to writhe in pain is no less daunting to overcome.
Stay awake.
I hadn’t noticed the leaves of the olive trees until now. Lifting my hand, I admire the ring wrapping around my finger—the branches, the leaves, the trees in the grove are one and the same.
The ring more than spoke to me that day in Tiffany’s. It beckoned my memories. I rest my hand on my chest and just breathe. I won’t give in, but the weight of my lids causes my eyes to close. I open them again, but they’re heavier this time, and it’s harder to focus on the sky and trees, the birds that fly in formation in the distance.
The sound of tires.
The name I chose as my own is called out like a prayer.
“Tuesday.” Hands cup my face while my lips are kissed with breath to bring me back to life.
I open my eyes to find the comfort of home staring back at me. If it’s wrong to smile, kill me now because there’s no resisting this man. I reach up, caressing his face like Loch caresses mine, and whisper, “Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?”
He chuckles, but it’s riddled with relief. Kissing me, he gently runs his hand under my head. “I was about to ask the same thing.”
“I’ll never get enough of you. So if I have to play the damsel in distress for my hero to save me, I’ll do it.”
His laughter rips through him, but I see the way his eyes well with water. I taste the tear that falls in my mouth and reach to wipe the next one away. “I was afraid you wouldn’t remember me.”
“You’re the only one I want to remember.”
He dips his head to my shoulder and kisses my neck and that ticklish spot below my ear. The sirens fail to drown him out when he whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” My lids grow heavy as the embers of my strength begin to burn out.
“Stay with me, baby. Everything is going to be okay.”
The sound of Allison telling the paramedics where we are has me lifting my lids. I’m greeted by the love of my life. I whisper, “I could never leave you, babe.”
I’m lifted onto a stretcher and placed in the back of an ambulance. Loch sits next to me, holding my hand. “I’m having déjà vu.”
“Can we make this the last time?”
His smile—though struggling through his worries—still brings one to my face. “Deal.” As the ambulance travels to the hospital, I give his hand a little squeeze. And when I have his full attention—gorgeous browns, lips that I adore kissing, and his love burning bright in his eyes—I say, “I remember . . .”
“You remember what?”
“Everything.”
40
Loch
Two weeks later . . .
* * *
“There are worse places to recover than in France.”
Tuesday side-eyes me over a slice of onion tartlet and salad her mom made for lunch. Since being here, her parents have spoiled us with amazing meals, but I’m ready for a hamburger. I know Tuesday is, too, because last night she told me that if I loved her, I’d fly in some Wendy’s or Five Guys for her. I add, “Are you ready to go home?”