Page 23 of Don’t Forget Me

I was deceitful, and my half-truths killed our relationship. But these past five years, everything I had been doing was for her. So she could find someplace in her heart to forgive me. To give me another chance to make it right.

I was unsure whether I’d be able to live with myself if she chose to hold resentment toward me for the rest of her life. Although last week’s conference about casting was pleasant. Not the best of our conversations, but she was courteous.

“Okay, I have to rush. We have another meeting today.”

“Careful, mate. I wouldn’t want there to be a conflict of interest.” I rolled my eyes as Zack snickered. “Have a good one.”

Grabbing my suitcase, I headed towards the elevator. The ding of the closed space transported me back to the day I saw her at the coffee shop minutes before meeting her at her publisher’s.

I noticed the way her brown eyes were full of sadness from the recollections that my features brought back. Oh, how I wished I hadn’t lied to her.

I had to stop thinking so much about everything I did wrong and focus on doing what was right. I shook off the ill thoughts that wished to entrap me. I wouldn’t tempt her to cheat on her fiancé, I wouldn’t do that to myself, and not to her. She wouldn’t carry that on her conscience, and neither would I. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t unravel the disdain she felt for me.

In a way, I knew she must care for this man she was engaged to. She wouldn’t have said yes to him if she didn’t love him. But there was some part of me, deep within my soul, that gave me the certainty that if I were to attempt to make her fall in love with me again, I would catch her, and she would remain forever in my arms. Close to my chest, close to my heart, close to me. We wouldn’t part ever again.

In those five miserable years without her, I could not get her out of my mind. No matter how much I tried.

I nodded in my receptionist’s direction. She squealed as I headed for the entrance, and I chuckled in confusion. As I opened the glass door to the building, I was welcomed with the warm smell of butter. Alongside the creamy odor of chocolate and baked flour. I walked down the cobblestone streets, passing tall lamp posts, and bumping into passerbyers wearing trench coats. I envisioned Lysandra in every corner of this city.

When I was at Blackthorn House Academy, all I wanted was to leave Scotland and never look back. I wanted to settle in America, where she came from, which was ironic. And she wanted to settle in Europe, where I was from. As if we were both looking for each other in our native lands.

The pink curved awnings of the café loomed ahead of me.

White Waves

She chose it. I wonder if this was a place she had visited often throughout her years here. I pulled the black door open. The scent of coffee engulfed me to the point where I wanted to immerse myself fully in the ambiance and mood of the place.

The tables were made of dark polished wood. Large cups of hot coffee were being passed around from the waiter’s hands to the customers seated. Sofas were set at different corners of the café, and old paintings hung from almost every wall. I looked around, scanning the room for the brunette of my dreams.

I spotted her sitting by a paned glass window, with an arched fanlight above. There’d been slight streaks of gold visible in her hair as the sun rays cast upon her. Her chin was curved down as her eyes swept the pages of a book. I looked at the cover of the book between her hands. The Picture of Dorian Gray. A small smudge of her lipstick stained her white coffee cup. As I neared her, I noticed the foam tulip on her coffee was already disappearing.

Lysandra looked up from her novel. There was a small twitch at the corner of her lips. She pursed her mouth before greeting me, “Oh, hello.”

“Hi,” I said as I took a seat before her and set my case on the floor.

Lysandra remained silent, her eyes inviting me to begin the conversation. I knew she wasn’t comfortable speaking to me yet. Nor did she seem to like the idea that we would be working together so closely again. Was it selfish of me to offer this deal, knowing it was everything she wanted?

I had not done it so I could have some sort of toxic control over her. I simply wished to make her dreams come true. To see her smile. To see her powerful words reach the lives of many. But I knew that, consequently, my dream to see her and to be close to her again would be fulfilled as well.

“I didn’t think that after all of this time you’d still be infatuated by that book,” I remarked.

She gasped. “Don’t be foolish. When you read this book, you can’t deny it feels as if you were having a conversation with darkness and beauty.”

I hesitated. She was right. Her contentment showed at the curve of her lips, knowing that I had no comeback.

“You got me there, Guerrera,” I said. Her breath hitched softly. I furrowed a brow and asked, “You okay?”

“Yes, sorry. Just thought of something dumb. Would you like to order something before we begin?” she asked.

“How polite. But no, just had coffee earlier.”

“Okay, let’s get straight into the details. I already began a portion of the script. Now, I know you already have your screenwriters, but I wanted to write down a few particular scenes myself. They feel kind of personal, and I wanted them to be the way I liv—imagined them.”

Lysandra dropped a packet of documents on my side of the table. She’d labeled the chapters that she wanted to have creative control over at the beginning of each scene. I grabbed the pages and skimmed through them. As I made it to the last few pages of the packet, I realized that the last scene she’d scripted was from a chapter of her book where the main character had been proposed to by the new love interest many years later. The female main character seemed to feel fearful and doubtful in that moment. And I recalled the female main character’s thoughts from the book.

Was this how Lysandra felt about her fiancé? Did she have uncertainty and fear? Could he possibly be at fault for this?

I prayed to God that he hadn’t hurt her or made her believe that she was unsafe around him.