Page 19 of Don’t Forget Me

Aldair strode toward me, setting his hands on my waist. My hands wrapped around his neck. I enjoyed being this close to him; I tried to convince myself. He was warm. He was home. “Thank you.”

He leaned down and kissed me sweetly.

“Care for breakfast?” I asked, creating distance between us.

“Of course. What do you have today?”

I shifted toward the kitchen island, where my avocado French toast had already been prepared. “Here, you can have these, and I’ll make more for myself.”

He sat down, grabbing some freshly washed grapes. “This looks amazing. If I recall correctly, you’ve been making these almost every day this week.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a little obsessed with this combination. Don’t judge me,” I chuckled, setting a new piece of sourdough in the toaster.

“I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in so long,” he whispered. Aldair’s ginger strands fell over his face as he took a big bite of the toast, some of the egg falling on the plate under him.

“Well, if you learned how to cook a simple egg, then you wouldn’t be eating takeaway all the time.”

He rolled his eyes. This was a topic we always brought up, but only because I cared about his health. He was a doctor; I thought he’d be more conscious about his health.

“I wasn’t blessed with the hands of a woman, so I must suffer for a few more months until we are married. I know you will prepare the most delicious meals for both of us.”

I gave him a strained grin accompanied by a slight chuckle. That’s right. The wedding. The one I wasn’t ready for. The celebration I was not looking forward to. People may have asked why I didn’t call it off if I knew I was unhappy with the idea of marriage, but until they meet someone as great as Aldair and are not recklessly in love with them—even though they should be—they won’t understand.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned.

I furrowed a brow. “Nothing, why?”

“It seems like something is bothering you.”

I looked into his eyes, which were a portrait of lush gardens. I couldn’t lie to him anymore. I had to tell him. Camille was right, I couldn’t continue dragging him along. It was not fair to him nor to me.

But if I were to tell him that I wasn’t ready for marriage, he’d ask me why. And that was not a question I was ready to answer.

“Just a lot of stress right now. I have to find time to write and then meet with the producers later today.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be keeping you too long. I’m sorry, I just wanted to enjoy breakfast with you before you start these new projects. I’ve just got a feeling we won’t be seeing each other as much.”

“Thank you for understanding,” I said before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. Which caused a twitch on his lips.

I spread more avocado onto another piece of bread. I would have to resolve the issues of my heart soon. I did not want to hurt the person that I loved, especially after he’d loved me dearly for so long. But I wondered if he loved me, or if he loved the idea of me he had created.

I walked into the building. The tower had slivers of Ezra everywhere. Black and white picture frames lined the entrance walls. It was full of minimalist decor. Neat, clean, simple, yet powerful.

There’d been a round desk not too far from the entrance. A young woman sat nearby, typing away. She glanced at me, then immediately shot up.

“Lysandra Guerrera!” She extended her hand, which I shook, and she caused vibrations run down my forearm. “It is such a pleasure to meet you. I can’t believe you’re actually here. Your book changed my life. All of your books, actually. You’ve been such an inspiration to me. Oh gosh, I’m fangirling. I need to stop.”

I chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“What brings you here, miss?” The young woman fixed her skirt.

“My agent is here with Mister Van Dorren. I was invited to go over script and marketing plans.”

“Of course. I’ll let Mister Van Dorren know that you’re here.”

I nodded. Her nails clicked on the buttons of the telephone next to her desktop, she conversed with someone on the other side of the line, then sent me a grin. “Okay, follow me.”

She led me to an elevator. It’d been fully transparent, made of glass. It was the type of elevators seen in 2000s movies with futuristic plots. “You’ll be going to level thirteen, and the first door on your left will be your destination,” she said with a beaming grin.