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“Most of them. You worked with Adira at Hunt Luxuries and backstage at the Mojito Bar when we first started dating. Helping Adira was how you were making ends meet. That and the birthday party princess bit.”
“Right.” He’d told me about that. I lower the zipper on something in cream and my breath catches at the boned bodice with its delicate antique lace. “This is it, isn’t it?”
Rogue finishes zipping up his last bag and joins me as I take the garment bag down. He glances at the small amount he can see and it seems like he stops breathing as his gaze returns to mine. But then his chest moves with that familiar rhythmic movement. “You were so beautiful.”
I lay the bag out on the console. I can’t wait to see what it looks like. Perhaps I can’t recall the memories, but these details are real. I can run my fingers over the lace and the bumps where the boning is inserted into the material. I want to touch and smell and maybe even try on the dress that I wore to marry my playboy.
He stills my fingers on the zipper with a hand on my wrist. His brow is furrowed and pinched together as he stares at the stain on the floor. “Let’s not do this in here. Why don’t we take it with us? Let me take you home.”
“Okay.” I pull the zipper to the top of the bag and hug the gown to my chest. I’d forgotten all about the hell that had happened in this room. That’s how unreal it all is to me. Even now I have no new memories to fit into the jigsaw of what happened. “But maybe we can also find the photo album from the wedding, before we go.”
Rogue swallows as he turns to leave Narnia. “Where would you keep it?”
“Bookshelf in the living room.” I follow him, still clutching my dress to my chest. “Or the bedroom.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ivy
Ismoothtremblingandclammy hands over the front of a dress that is far too pretty to be on my person while I stare into the floor to ceiling mirror in my walk-in-closet. The bodice is more intricate than I noticed at first. The beading and feathering and lace detail is so delicate. Each stitch must have been done by hand. “I wore this?”
“You wore this.” Rogue doesn’t make eye contact with me while he works the ribbon at the back that tightens the stays in the bodice. It flows into a long skirt and train that pools around my feet. He hasn’t been able to meet my gaze since I asked him to help me put it on.
Or maybe he’s been off since I asked him to help me find the photo album before we left Adira’s.
We’d looked in the bookshelf and in the bedroom. I’d even checked under the bed. But wherever I put it we weren’t meant to find it tonight, and I still haven’t gotten a response from Adira about it even though we messaged back and forth for an hour last night. But I’d forgotten about it too as he told me about his friend Christian.
I’ve never seen Adira so coy about a boy. It’s cute. It makes me happy to see him that way. Even if I wish my bestie were here to help me navigate this situation with Rogue. It’s still all so new and confusing. I understand why he decided to give us space though. We need it to find us.
One thing I’ve learned is that Rogue needs time to come to peace with how the things that he needs to tell me may hurt me. It’s like he can’t bear to see me sad. But that’s not how life works. I am sad for all the things that I have lost. I will hurt because our story ended in tragedy.
But I am lucky too. I am still here. I am stronger than I used to be. And we have a second chance to get our love right.
I’m more hopeful than I have ever been. And that is despite the fact that Narnia answered none of my questions.
It was a fantasy to believe it would help me remember everything—all of the good and all of the bad—yet when that didn’t happen it was still a letdown.
I try to shake off the disappointment that goes along with not recovering any of my memories. It’s by no means the end. The doctors said it might be a matter of time. Or it might come down to one thing that jogs my memory in a specific way. That was my initial reason for wanting to try on my rings.
I must sigh, because Rogue stops fussing with the ribbon and says, “You were the most stunning woman I had ever seen that day. You are still the most stunning woman I will ever lay eyes on.”
I can’t be bitter when I’m wearing such a beautiful dress while such a gorgeous man looks at me the way Rogue is now looking at me. He walks around me and takes a handful of the skirt in his fist.
I scream when he yanks it and the strands of fabric tear from each other. The noise is horrific. “Oh m-my God. W-what did you do?”
“Close your eyes,” he orders.
I can’t bear to. Don’t dare to. If anything they get wider. “You’re ruining it.”
“I’m not.” His smile is beautiful.
The joy he is getting out of ruining this incredible gown pains my heart. Especially when it should be a symbol of the love we shared. “You’re a sick, sick man.”
“Just close your eyes.”
I slam them shut and try to still the rapid beating of my heart. It’s so loud it’s in my ears. So strong it’s in my throat.
I can feel him moving around me but thankfully there’s no more sound of things tearing. He stops in front of me. The heat of him radiates from mere inches away and then it encases my hand. “Okay. Open your eyes.”
