I was memorizing all of it because soon memory might be all I had left.
She was beautiful. Had always been beautiful. But seeing her here, in my space, being my wife—it made everything else disappear.
I finished my coffee and checked my messages. Another text from Jack asking if anything had changed. If her headaches were worse. If I’d noticed any new symptoms.
I texted back that she was fine. That everything was stable.
I was about to set down my phone when I heard it.
A crash from the bedroom. Loud. Something heavy hitting the floor.
My entire body went cold.
I was running with absolute terror rising in my chest. A fear so intense it wiped out everything else. Every thought. Every piece of me that wasn’t pure animal fear.
I threw the bedroom door open so hard it slammed against the wall.
Claudette was on the floor.
Books scattered everywhere. The nightstand knocked over. Lamp broken and the glass glittering on the hardwood.
Relief nearly dropped me to my knees.
I grabbed the doorframe, heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat, in my ears, in every inch of my body. Adrenaline still flooding my system even though I could see she was fine. She was breathing. She was moving. She was alive.
She sat cross-legged in the mess of books and broken glass, biting her lip, looking up at me with those blue eyes wide and guilty and so perfectly, impossibly alive.
CHAPTER 8
Claudette
The world disappeared.
One second I was stretching on my toes, fingers brushing the spine of a book on the top shelf. The next second the floor vanished and everything spun, like someone had grabbed the room and twisted it sideways.
I went down. Didn’t even have time to catch myself. Just dropped, hit the carpet with my hip and shoulder, books tumbling around me in a messy cascade of paper and dust. The ceiling swam above me, all those perfect white lines blurring together.
I blinked hard, trying to make the spinning stop. Trying to remember how to breathe properly. My heart was doing something strange in my chest—beating too fast and too hard, like it was trying to escape.
This had happened before. I knew that somehow. The dizziness felt familiar in a way I couldn’t explain.
The door exploded open.
The sound made me jump even though I was already on the floor.
Michael stood in the doorway, and the look on his face almost stopped my heart. Pure terror—like he’d walked in expecting to find me dead.
“I’m okay,” I managed. My voice came out thin. “I’m fine.”
He was beside me before I even finished the sentence. I didn’t even see him cross the room. Just suddenly he was there, dropping to his knees so hard I heard the impact even through the carpet.
That had to hurt. But he didn’t seem to notice.
His hands found my face, cupping my cheeks and tilting my head up to look at him. His palms were warm against my skin, his fingers sliding into my hair. The touch sent heat racing through me, even though I was on the floor surrounded by books.
“Are you hurt?” His voice came out jagged with fear. “Claudie. Talk to me. Where does it hurt?”
“Nowhere. I just got dizzy.”
