Page 108 of The Image of You

She didn’t meet my eyes. “Until the wedding.”

“I see.”

“I’m not sure how much I can see you now, Adam. There’s a lot of wedding stuff I have to do, my mother tells me.” Sadness filled her voice. “And then I’m moving.”

I wanted to snort and tell her not to bother since there wasn’t going to be a wedding. At least not between her and Bradley. And she wasn’t going anywhere without me.

Her next words hit me like a Mack truck. “I have to go for my dress fitting the day after tomorrow. The last one—thank goodness.”

I struggled to remain calm. The dress she was supposed to be marrying him in.

It wasn’t happening. No fucking way was that happening.

“I thought women liked that sort of thing.”

She shrugged. “This whole spectacle is for my parents and Bradley. I’m not much for events.”

I cleared my throat. “No, I imagine you would like a simple ceremony.” I watched her reaction carefully. “Maybe on a beach in Greece? Or a private ceremony in some tiny chapel in England?”

Her hand flew to her head, and she shut her eyes, not saying a word, only nodding. When she opened her eyes, they were tormented and upset. “How did you know that?”

“I told you, I know you.” I bent closer, deciding to push a little more. “I know you very well.”

Her eyes searched mine. “How?”

My time was up, and I knew I needed to act. I stood, offering her my hand. “I need you to come with me.”

“Where?” she asked, tentative but curious.

I shook my head but smiled. “I need you to trust me and come with me. Please.”

She stood, slipping her hand into mine.

* * *

She was silent as we stood by Elena’s grave. Kneeling, she traced her finger over the headstone. “I don’t remember this.”

I helped her to her feet and tugged her over to the bench we’d sat on the day we’d buried the woman we loved. “We sat here together and said goodbye.”

She shook her head, but I saw the telltale signs of distress creeping up as her fingers moved restlessly over her head. I kept talking. “She loved you like a daughter, Ally. Her happiest times were spent with you. With us. We played cards and talked. Elena and I drank scotch, and you laughed at us. We laughed a lot. She loved seeing you happy.”

“Why are you the only person who will talk about her with me? Bradley shuts me down, and my mother brushes me off. No one wants to talk about her.”

“They didn’t like us spending time with her.”

And they don’t want you to remember how she supported us.

She furrowed her brow, her eyes dulling with pain. “But I want to remember those months before she died. I can feel they were good memories. I want all my memories back.”

“I want that for you as well.”

Her next comment was the simple truth.

“I have the feeling you may be the only one who does,” she whispered.

I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her close. She leaned into my side, and for a few minutes, we sat in silence. She shivered a bit, and I pulled off my jacket and draped it around her shoulders. She rested into me, and I felt her sudden tension.

“What’s wrong?”