As she gets into bed, she reads the message from Ash one last time. A message that from anyone else would be disregarded as one of many. But because it’s from him, it makes her smile as she drifts into sleep.
Happy birthday Lissa. X
In her dream, she’s on Coney Island beach, the smell of salt water merging with that of hot dogs. Laughter rises around them, along with the sound of children screaming as they run through the waves. The air shimmers with heat, and the back of her neck pricks with sweat.
‘Sure I can’t tempt you into the water?’ he asks, grinning down at her from where he is propped on one elbow.
‘I told you, I don’t swim.’Don’tsounds better thancan’t –and best not to mention anything about the drowning nightmares. She doesn’t want him to start worrying about her sanity, after all. She flips onto her belly, the towel coarse on her exposed shins, and props herself up, tracing patterns in the sand.
‘So I was thinking,’ he says, and the tone of his voice makes her glance up at him. ‘Maybe I could stick around for a while.’
Her heart does a funny little spasm. ‘Stick around?’
‘In New York. I’ve got a bit of a name going for myself in the band now. I think I could find work here. And my dad – maybe it would be good for me to be around a bit more often for him.’
She nods slowly. He doesn’t talk much about his dad, but she knows he’s struggled since coming back from France.
‘What do you think?’ he prompts.
‘What doIthink?’ She laughs, shakes her head. ‘Well of course I’d like you around more.’ Maybe that would mean things could progress between them. And if he stays, that would make it easier for her to stay too, wouldn’t it?
He grins, gets to his feet and holds out a hand. ‘Come on. Let’s walk.’
She allows him to pull her up, and the two of them walk barefoot along the shoreline. She’s not looking where she’s going, too caught up in wondering if he means it, if he’ll really stay this time, so she doesn’t notice the sharp shell on the sand until she steps on it.
She feels a slice of pain across her foot. Sees the blood. And feels the telltale ringing in her ears.
Not here, she thinks.Not now.
But her breathing is coming too fast. The blood is swelling from her foot, and she sinks to the ground, stretching it out in front of her to get a better look.
‘Ouch,’ he says. His hands on her calf. ‘It doesn’t look deep. I can find something to wrap it with. Hang on.’
But the words don’t register, and in front of her, the sea blurs on the horizon. She can’t breathe. There is a tingling sensation in her hands, her feet, and no matter how much air she sucks in, it’s not enough.
‘Hey. It’s okay,’ he’s saying, a hand on her back. ‘You’re okay.’
She’s breathing heavily as she wakes, her spine slick with sweat. Her heart is beating fast, like she really did have the panic attack.
She huffs out an impatient breath as she sits up in bed. How is she supposed to move forward with her life if she keeps getting drawn to memories of the past, memories that she doesn’t even understand? She still feels sure that there must be a reason she’s seeing all this. A reason it’s happening now. But if it was triggered by the anniversary of Chloe’s death, why does she keep reliving her previous romances?
Maybe Saskia is right. Maybe it’s time to stop obsessing over the past and start thinking about her future.
Chapter Nineteen
Lissa checks her phone as she parks outside Saskia’s house once again. She thinks she’s partly looking for an excuse not to go through with this – because does she really think that tarot cards are going to help her? – but all she has is a message from Darcy wishing her luck and asking her to ask Saskia when she – Darcy – is likely to find her soulmate.
As she walks to the front door, though, one more message pops up. Her heart does that familiar little skip as she opens it.
Are you free next Saturday? There’s somewhere I’d like to take you.
Straight to the point, without so much as ahow are you.Without reference to the fact that apart from her birthday message, they haven’t spoken since the night they kissed.
Where?she types back, figuring that if he is being abrupt, she can be too.
You’ll have to meet me to find out.
She bites her lip as she rings the doorbell. She’s decided, in the space she’s had from him, that perhaps she’s overthinking things. Yes, they kissed, but that didn’t mean he wanted to move in together and get a golden retriever, did it? And maybe she wasn’t even that attracted to him. They’d been drinking that night, after all, and it’s easy, under the influence, to think you really fancy someone – she’s made that mistake plenty of times before.
