Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I sighed heavily. “I was angry.”
“And?”
“I threw things. Lots of things.”
“You broke all our dishes?”
“Yes.”
“And my mug?”
“I was angry,” I repeated. “I thought you’d left me—left our life behind. I didn’t want any reminders. So I destroyed anything that reminded me of us.”
“Did it make you feel better?”
I shrugged. “Not really.”
She walked around, running her fingers over the walls. “Here?” she asked quietly, tracing a deep hole. “Was this my mug?”
“I think so. Or your keys.”
“Adam …”
“They were on the desk. All your things were gone. I thought you were gone too,” I added, trying to explain my pain and anger.
“I didn’t take them,” she replied.
“No. I assume your mother did. Was my information in your phone?” I asked, more pieces of the puzzle coming together.
“Yes.”
“That explains how she got the address. I guess she decided to make it look like you took your things. Made sure I got the message. Bitch.”
“I’m sorry. She certainly thought of everything.” She tilted her head. “You were hurting.”
“I was. I thought I was going to explode. I didn’t know how to deal with the pain and frustration.”
“So my mug had to suffer.”
I knew she was trying to make me smile.
“It was an honorable death.”
She rested her hand on her hip, a stern expression on her face.
“I expect you’ll be replacing my mug,” she huffed. “And my key chain.”
I nodded, trying not to laugh at her stern tone. I had missed how adorable she was when she was trying to be tough.
“I guess we need to pick up some new dishes. Eating off paper plates is more your style than mine,” she teased.
“Saves on dish soap.”
“Nope. New ones.”
I grinned. “Bossy.”
“You love me bossy.”
I yanked her to me. “I love you any way—as long as I have you.”
She pulled my mouth down to hers, her breath drifting over my skin.
“I know.”
The day was filled with ups and downs. Some moments of sharing were easier and lighter—like the mug and dishes. Later, however, I heard her crying in the shower, and I went in to find her on the floor of the stall, weeping over her silly mug and the pain it symbolized for me. Fully dressed, I sank down beside her and held her, letting the water wash away her tears.
I left her in the loft, running to the Chinese place to get some food. The order took longer than usual, and I became agitated, a gnawing feeling clawing at my gut at being away from her. I grabbed the bag from Chang and tore back home, only to find her waiting anxiously for me by the door. I wrapped my arm around her and lifted her, carrying her and the food to the counter, setting them on the hard surface. Cupping her face, I stared at her. “I don’t think we can be apart for a while,” I admitted. “I can’t be away from you right now.”
“Me either. I feel better when you’re close.”
“Good.”
We ate, then she curled up in the chair, and I sat in front of her, holding her hands, wanting to hear more about our time apart.
I asked the questions I hated hearing the answers to. She told me about her recovery, trying to come to grips with the missing pieces of her life, and the therapy on her leg. I disliked hearing about her being in physical pain, and even more, I loathed hearing about her emotional pain. How she worried about her memory and what the future held for her. I gripped her hand tighter as she whispered some days she cried when the pain was too much to handle.
She asked me questions about Peter and Edwina and what I had done during the months we’d been apart. I explained about the clinic I used Elena’s money to build, and how the trust fund would ensure continued care for the people there. I shared memories as we went through the images I had captured on my laptop. She loved the ones I took of the remote area and the clear horizons that surrounded us.
“The stars at night, Ally. They’re like diamonds thrown into the inky blackness. I had never seen skies like the ones I saw there,” I explained.
She touched my hand that was on the mouse, stopping me from going forward as she gazed at my face on the screen, her finger tracing the image. For a change, I was staring into the camera while Edwina snapped the shutter. My face was impassive, but my eyes and expression said it all. Weary and lost. That was how I looked.
“I remember that day,” I murmured. “It had been a bad night.”
“Tell me,” she urged.
I set down the laptop, needing to hold her. “I’d dream of you. You’d be with me…then I’d wake up, and you weren’t there. I wasn’t here. I was alone in a strange place and missing you so much.”