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)
“Babe.” A shake of my shoulders follows the whispered word. I open my eyes to find the blue eyes I dream about. “Come to bed,” she whispers, taking my hand.
My mind hasn’t caught up to the fact that I’m in the living room, much less why. I sit up and then stand to my feet when I’m finally coherent enough to understand. Tuesday clings to me, her arms holding me so tight that I don’t think pliers could pry us apart.
When her tears start to fall, I embrace her, kissing her head and telling her, “We’ll be okay. It will be all right.”
“Promise me.” She looks up, resting her chin on my chest. “Promise me that nothing will come between us, Loch.”
I caress her cheek, then kiss it. “I promise you.” I mean it and will keep that promise every day I’m given a chance—to protect her, be with her, and love her long into the future. Together always.
I hope.
29
Tuesday
Loch has not said a word about the file since he gave it to me three days ago.
He’s caught between worrying about me leaving and hoping I’ll stay. Me too. I wish I could reassure him anyway.
I hate that I can’t tell him I won’t go, but that would be a lie. I have another life out there waiting for me to discover, people I knew from a former identity in Rhode Island.
Rhode Island . . .
How can I be from somewhere only a few hours away, yet no one recognizes me, or misses me, or bothers to file a report? Nothing makes sense, and I’m tired of living in the dark.
I walk into the bedroom and pull the file from the nightstand drawer. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I flip it over a few times as the gravity of what’s inside starts weighing heavy on my heart.
Shouldn’t I be thrilled and over-the-moon elated that I’m finally getting the answers that no one else could find? That is, no one else but Loch.
Bracing myself, I take a breath and flip open the file. My gaze darts from the photo to the name to the address, and this is only page one. I close it, now well aware of the implications of what I hold in my hands.
Céline . . .
I stand and walk to the window. The snow isn’t pretty anymore. It’s turned to slush after the wavering temperatures couldn’t decide if they wanted to go up or down. I’m just as confused, so I understand.
Céline. Not Tuesday.
Schroder. Not Westcott.
Nothing about the former feels familiar, but I do find myself smiling over the latter because it’s who I’ve become. It’s come to feel like safety to me, including his family. And of course, Loch. I love the tie to the man who’s given me everything from a roof to his heart, and now my identity.
Céline. Céline. Céline. It’s not an entirely foreign feeling if I were going off vibes.
“Céline.” I say it out loud to see if it feels right.
“It’s a beautiful name.” The warmth of his voice coats me like the first time we met. He didn’t have to show up that morning at the hospital, but he did. Like he is now, knowing the consequences might not be in his favor.
I turn back to see him in the doorway. “I thought you were at work?”
“I’m supposed to be.” But he’s here for me. As always.
“I didn’t mean to punish you.”
“The situation is punishing, not you. We’re just caught up in it.”
I go to him, dropping the file on the bed and embracing this man who loves me for who I am. When his arms come around me, I melt against him, needing this more than I thought. The past few days have tortured my soul, but now I see how much it’s affected his soul as well. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be. I do. I messed up when I hid that file from you.” He kisses the top of my head, then says, “I’m sorry, Tues . . . I mean Céline.” His body tenses when he realizes what he just said.
I look up and wait to catch his gaze. “It’s okay to call me by my name. Tuesday. That’s who I am with you.”
“You’re Céline without me, though, and it crushes my soul that you’re forced to choose between two lives.”
“I don’t have to choose. Not yet.” I sigh and release him before returning to the file. Sitting on the bed, I’m drained of the enthusiasm I once had for this part of the healing process. Here I thought the concussion was a concern. No, it’s the amnesia that’s winning. “Do you want to open it with me?”
“Do you want me to?” he asks, crossing the room to sit by my side.
“You deserve to know, too.” I look into those caramel eyes. “You’ve been my support up to this moment, and I’m not letting that go now.”