Page 69 of Before I Lost You

What if…

Whatif…

What if…

What if it was?

Real.

Because itfeltreal. It still somehow does. The way his hand fit in mine, perfect and warm and soft. The way my chest tightened at just the sight of his smile, that dimple on the apple of his cheek used to take my breath away with every appearance it made. His blue eyes going lighter and darker, depending on the lighting. The way he looked at me like I was the center of his universe. The wayIlooked athim, like he was the sun I revolved around. And he was. God, he really was everything to me.

Still is.

Our last fight comes back to me front and center. How hard he was trying to push me away. Then, how desperately he was trying to pull me back in when he came back to the apartment. How he yelled at me and told me he loved me. That hurts. A lot. Because it’s possible I might never hear those words again. But the memory of him proposing would’ve brought me to my knees if I weren’t already on my ass. The way he yelled it. The emotion behind his words. I can’t get it out of my mind. But the one thing I can’t stop thinking about above all others is the way I’m not his now. In this universe, in this lifetime, in this fucking cursed timeline—I’mnothing. No one. I just wish he hadn’t come out after me at the bar, because for just a split second, it felt like his soul recognized mine. Like he was actually out there for me. Wondering where I’d been. How I’d slipped through his fingers. The reality that none of those things were going through his mind hurts more than I thought was possible.

I never should’ve gotten in that car, never should’ve looked at my phone. I never should’ve had that car accident. And I never should’ve died. But that’s neither here nor there, because I can’t control what’s happened.

Now I just need to figure out a way to live with it.

Possibly even without him.

No matter how much it hurts.

Chapter 27

THE BOY I LOST

It’s a warm afternoon when I finally step out of my penthouse—well, more like scorching hot. But I feel too cooped up to stay inside. It’s a feeling of being trapped that I haven’t experienced in a long time, but I’m definitely feeling it today. Thankfully, I’m wearing very short gym shorts and a loose T-shirt. The five-inch seam of the shorts rides up as I walk, granting me the cooling feeling of the breeze against my exposed skin. I’m keeping to the shadows as much as possible, avoiding the direct light of the sun, as if that will help me stay cooler. Which it might. Who even knows anymore?

I walk aimlessly for a while, four blocks to be exact, before a bookstore catches my eye. Sitting down with a latte and a poetry book sounds pretty damn good right now, so I go inside and get in line to order. The barista gives me flirty eyes when I order an iced vanilla latte, and I almost roll my own. I want to tell her she has no chance, but that would be rude, so I give her a polite smile and pay. When I finally get my latte, there, right on the side of the cup, is her phone number. I sigh, looking up just to make eye contact with her. She has a wide grin on her face that makes me abit uncomfortable, so I just turn around without another look or smile, making my way past the bookshelves in the center of the room.

I finally make it into a sort of clearing, and there are tables everywhere, with books sitting atop them. ‘Best of BookTok’ and ‘Spicy Romance’ tags sit in the middle of the table between the stacks of books, and I shake my head with a smile. I’ll never be one to grab one of those, mostly because I rather enjoy poetry instead. But I can see the appeal. Getting lost in another world sounds good right about now. That thought almost has me turning around, maybe to browse that section, but I decide not to. I go to the poetry section instead, browsing alphabetically until I make it to the P. My eyes catch on the book of Ariel by Sylvia Plath, and I go to reach for it when someone clears their throat behind me. I freeze when he speaks, mostly because it feels like I must be hallucinating.

“Oh my God,” Kenneth says softly. “I found you.”

I found you.

My nostrils flare with the effort to keep my shit together, but I can’t help the raging butterflies in my stomach at the sound of those words. I turn around slowly, my eyes widening at the sight of him across from me. He’s wearing a cropped T-shirt, his abs exposed, and low-slung linen pants that sit precariously low on his hips. My eyes drift to what he’s holding in his hand—a book. The book of Ariel by Sylvia Plath, specifically. The same one I was just about to grab. My very favorite. I wonder what drew him to it. Does he remember she’s my favorite poet?

I swallow hard and look up at his face after at least a full minute of gawking at his body, which I now realize is a long time and fucking impolite. Immediately, I regret looking up. Because his face undoes me more than any other part of him. His eyes are wide, his mouth slightly ajar, and his cheeks flushed a deep red. As if he’s embarrassed by his words. But he can’t take themback now; they’re out. They’re in the space between us. In the air. Echoing in my ears. I don’t think I’ll ever forget this moment for the rest of my life.

My heart pounds in my chest the longer we stare at each other, and it feels slightly out of rhythm. Off. Like maybe it’s going to give out on me. I wouldn’t be surprised if it did. I’m not really sure how to reply, so I lick my lips, trying to think of something, anything. To my surprise, his eyes follow the movement of my tongue, and my body turnshot. I’m burning from the inside out.

“Y-you remember me?” I ask, just as softly as he spoke.

His wide eyes sparkle, then squint with his smirk. It makes me feel more alive than I ever have before. It’s so him, so fuckingKenny, that I almost faint with happiness. Then he does something completely unexpected, raking his gaze down my body slowly, clearly checking me out.

“Of course, I remember you.” His smirk deepens when I gulp. “A face like yours is hard to forget.”

He’s fuckingflirtingwith me.

I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off. “I did think I recognized you, though—the first time I saw you. You look so… familiar. Have we met before?”

I shake my head. “Not exactly.” I grip the back of my neck nervously. “But I know you.”

“That makes no sense.” But he grins.

I’ve thought about this specific encounter for a while now. What I’d do when I finally had him in front of me. I think I’ve already decided something, but now I have to put that plan into action, and I’m not sure how to go about it. What I do know is that I want him back. I want to do it differently, though. I want to change our course, maybe even change our fate if I can. I want to not die by the end of this. Can I accomplish that?