Page 8 of Don’t Forget Me

“At five o’clock.”

I sighed, rubbing my temple. “I can’t make it. I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you that I have another conference today with my publisher. I have to pitch a new book to them. I came outside to the garden to brainstorm new ideas.”

“Writer’s block still hitting you hard?” he asked.

“Yes, it is. I’m sorry, I would’ve loved to make it.”

“It’s okay. I can wait for you at my apartment?” I could feel him smiling on the other side of the call. Although I felt my stomach twist.

“Do you really think that low of me?” I chuckled.

“Worth a try,” he chirped.

I rolled my eyes. Aldair and I had never crossed the line physically. I didn’t grow up in a religious household, but to think of that level of intimacy always made fear rush into my blood. I always imagined a moment like that was an act that could be considered heavenly. A tie, a bond between two souls. I didn’t want that to happen with just anyone.

Aldair wasn’t just another person, though. I knew that. It just didn’t feel right to do it, yet. It was the same excuse I had been telling myself for the past two years. There were moments where I felt like he was showing me teasers of an unhappy marriage. At times, he’d say things that made him sound just like Mario, and it frightened me deeply.

“Okay, but we do have to make time to go over our plans for the wedding. The time is passing by, and we haven’t been able to plan much.”

I bit my lip, closing my eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I promise to make some time later this week.”

I think we both knew that was a lie.

“No worries, love. I can’t wait to see you this weekend.”

“I have to go,” I said.

“Okay, love. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you,” he said.

“See you,” I chuckled forcefully.

The typical whirlwind of doubt crashed into my mind. Aldair proposed six months ago, and I still didn’t have an exact date in mind. Autumn seemed like a better fit. But it felt foolish to choose my favorite season to marry a man I couldn’t bring myself to love passionately.

I hadn’t even gone dress shopping.

I knew the day of his desertion would arrive if I didn’t make a decision soon. I was aware he wanted a more physical relationship with me, and I knew he wanted me to start planning our wedding already. But every time my heart reached for him, it felt like I was going down a hollow, cold path.

I let out a shaky breath. Now, I had to brainstorm ideas for a new book that was meant to be released next summer. A nonexistent novel that I had no idea how to bring to life.

As I pondered, the image that came to my mind was Ezra. I shook my head at myself. I had already written a book based on our experiences, I couldn’t use him as inspiration again. It almost felt like I was cheating on Aldair. I rubbed my temples.

I had already spilled my broken heart and poured it into So Long, Scotland. I produced many great narratives that many women could relate to. One was literally being prepared to become a film this very second. And I wondered whether I could pick up that story and give it a brand-new ending. It was the best I could come up with in such little time.

I examined the gardens. Their lush colors were still prominent in the fall. A breeze flowed between the branches of the flowers, reminding me of a love that was short yet passionate. Our timeline was cut before we could ever bloom into adulthood.

What other lesson did I learn from that heartbreak? Would I be capable of throwing myself down this rabbit hole without opening doors that should be kept closed?

My heart felt like it dropped down to my stomach as I realized that my next best choice was to write another ending to So Long, Scotland.

four

LYSANDRA

5 YEARS AGO

It was already January 2nd. My New Year’s sucked. I spent it alone, in my room, with bandas and corridos blasting through the walls. Mario had his friends over, drinking countless beers for days. The only thing that gave me hope the past week was that my flight left today at midnight.

I packed my bags the night I received the acceptance email. Mario signed my waiver, completely hammered, the next day. Thankfully, the school’s scholarship paid for my flight to get there but for me to come back.