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Today, I’d been forced to participate in this awful, terrible excursion, but tonight...when everyone else was asleep and two a.m. rolled around, I would sneak down to the beach and make my yearly phone call.
I’d indulge in my sickening addiction.
Speaking to Aslan’s father wasn’t healthy.
I knew that.
But...I couldn’t help myself.
I couldn’t stop myself from hoping that if I called Cem often enough, reminding him of the night he’d stolen my soulmate, that he’d one day confess his sins and admit Aslan had been alive this entire time.
He’ll give him back to me.
I could prove to everyone that I’d been right to never give up hope. To never stop fighting, believing, knowing that Aslan was alive.
I wasn’t going crazy.
I was sensing things even science told me I shouldn’t feel.
“Ready, little fish?” Dad asked gently, pulling me from my thoughts and dropping me back into the sea where The Fluke rode gentle swells. We’d been anchored here for half an hour. Low Isles gleamed in the distance with its lighthouse, sand, and palm trees.
I took Aslan’s virginity on that beach.
We’d gotten married in the shallows.
The sky had rained with colours, giving us the best wedding gift.
My heart spasmed.
Tears stung.
Now, tourist boats dotted around the reef, children ran riot on the beach, and my mother opened the packages she’d mysteriously stowed, laying gorgeous flower wreaths on the table where Aslan had worked with his laptop, helping my parents make sense of their data.
I almost jumped overboard.
I almost scooped up my daughter and dived into the sea, needing to be as far away as possible.
“Neri...you okay?” Dad asked.
“Not really.” I patted his hand as he squeezed my forearm, his fingers wrapping around my lion tattoo. “But I’ll do it if that’s what you want.”
I’m not ready to say goodbye.
I’ll never be ready.
“I think it’s important.” His dark-blue eyes glimmered with sadness. “I think it’s time you let him go, my love. I’m...I’m worried about you.”
I smiled and reached up to kiss his weathered cheek. “I’m fine, Dad.”
“You’re surviving. There’s a big difference.” He cast a look at Ayla who held Eddie’s hand after stealing a frangipani from one of the wreaths. Her shoulder length sable hair had bronzed like Aslan’s used to. Her dark brown eyes soaked up the sun. And her lips smiled with a seriousness that looked a little stern on such a happy toddler.
“She looks so much like him,” Dad murmured. “It hurts me sometimes at how similar they are. I can’t imagine what it must do to you.”
“It actually helps,” I said quietly, staring at my darling daughter. “She’s a part of him. His blood flows in her veins. Her heart shares his beat, just like mine.”
“I’m so sorry he’s gone, Nerida. I wish I could bring him back for you. But I don’t have that power. No one does. You need to accept he’s gone, little fish. You need to accept that he’s never coming back and do your best to start healing.”
I knew my dad’s suggestion came from concern, but...it irked me.
