Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
She turned around, her gaze flying everywhere. Standing in the middle of the loft, she looked shell-shocked.
“You live here.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been here before.”
“Yes, you have.”
“With you.”
“Usually. Sometimes you stayed here when I went away.”
Her hand flew to her head at those words. We hadn’t talked much about my career; she knew I was a photographer, but I didn’t expound on it very much.
“I stayed here without you?”
“Yes. You liked it here.”
“You went away a lot?”
“Far too much.”
“But not now?”
I inched toward her. “No. I don’t want to travel like that anymore. I made that mistake once, and I’ll never make it again. I found my home, and it’s right here.”
“This loft?”
“No. Not the loft.”
“I don’t understand.”
We were so close I could feel the heat of her body. Hear the air escaping her lungs in small gasps. Small tremors shook her frame.
“The person standing in the loft with me.”
Her eyes became huge. Panicked. The tremors became shudders.
“W–what?”
Slowly, I slipped my hands up her arms, tracing the smooth skin with my thumbs. I slid them over her shaking shoulders and up her neck until they cupped her face. “You, Ally. You are my home.”
She shook her head furiously. “No. I don’t know you like that.”
“You do. You know me. I know you better than anyone else does.” I moved closer. “Anyone.”
“No,” she whimpered.
“I know you sleep on your right side, always curled up. You can’t function in the morning without at least two cups of coffee. I know how much you loved being a nurse and helping people. I understand the pain and sadness you experienced growing up and how much you hate the restrictions you’re living with. I know all about the emotional blackmail your parents have used on you. I know nothing makes you happier than a warm blanket and a good book.” I paused and looked directly into her eyes. “And me—I made you happy.”
“How–how do you know all these things?”
I drew in a deep breath. “When you love someone, you know them. You know all about them.”
“I’m engaged. To someone else.”
I shook my head. “No, Ally. You were mine first. You just don’t remember it yet.”
Her eyes widened more as I slipped my hand down and tapped her hip bone. “I know you have a small tattoo right here of a camera. If you look at the swirls, you’ll find my initials there. You marked yourself as mine. You belong to me.”
I tore my T-shirt over my head, letting her see the nightingale carved into my skin, right over my heart, her name woven into the feathers. I’d had it done while I was traveling, giving in one night to the desire of etching her on my skin. I had taken Rod’s design and went to an artist he recommended when I called him. I needed to mark myself with her—to carry her with me the rest of my days—even if I thought she was lost to me forever.
“Just like I belong to you.”
A small whimper escaped her lips.
“The band around your ankle was mine. I gave it to you. I gave you my heart.”
The next second, my mouth was on hers.
I held her tight, molding her body to mine. I kissed her with everything I had. All the months of pain and torment, love and longing, went into that kiss. I drowned in the taste and feel of her. I groaned her name, pulling her closer. Her response was instant and passionate. It was perfect.
Until she pulled away.
Our eyes met. Panicked, pain-filled blue meeting pleading, terrified brown.
I reached out to touch her, and she stepped back.
“Ally, it’s me.” My voice broke. “Please, baby. Please don’t leave. Stay with me. You’re my Nightingale.”
The last thing I saw on her face, before she turned and ran away from me, was shock.
She ignored all my pleas, and she left me—again.
The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in my head for hours.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
ALLY
The rain beat incessantly on the windows, the wind blowing so hard tree limbs were bent over, almost touching the thick, sodden ground in places. The sky lit up with jagged, violent flashes of light. The thunder was so loud and forceful, the windows shook in their frames.
The weather outside echoed the turbulent maelstrom in my head.
When I had arrived back to the condo, my mother was furious, demanding to know where I had been. She became angrier when I told her the partial truth of visiting Elena’s grave, telling me I needed to stop these useless bouts of emotion and concentrate on going forward with my life.
“Stop trying to live in the past, Alexandra. Nothing good comes from the past. Bradley, and your life with him, is your future.”
I didn’t understand why she was so upset, but the more I tried to explain myself to her, the more agitated she became. Finally, when I pleaded a terrible headache, she relented and told me to go and lie down. She reminded me Bradley would be home tomorrow and I needed to be rested and ready for the busy week ahead.