I
don’t ha一ve a heart.”
The lump in my throat expands. Oh, Christian, you do,
you do ha一ve a heart, and it’s mine. I want to cherish it
forever. Even though he’s so complex and difficult, I love
forever. Even though he’s so complex and difficult, I love
him. I will always love him. There will never be anyone
else. Ever.
I remember sitting in Starbucks weighing up my
Christian pros and cons. All those cons, even those
photographs I found this morning, melt into insignificance
now. There’s just him and whether he’ll come back. Oh
please, Lord, bring him back, please let him be okay.
I’ll go to church . . . I’ll do anything. Oh, if I get him
back, I shall seize the day. His voice echoes around my
head once more: “Carpe diem, Ana.”
I gaze deeper into the fire, the flames still licking and
curling around each other, blazing brightly. Then Grace
shrieks, and everything goes into slow motion.
“Christian!”
I turn my head in time to see Grace barreling across
the great room from where she had been pacing
somewhere behind me, and there in the entrance stands a
dismayed Christian. He’s dressed in just his shirtsleeves
and suit pants, and he’s holding his na一vy jacket, shoes, and
socks. He looks tired, dirty, and utterly beautiful.
Holy fuck . . . Christian. He’s alive. I gaze numbly at
him, trying to work out if I’m hallucinating or if he’s really
here.
His expression is one of utter bewilderment. He
deposits his jacket and shoes on the floor in time to catch
Grace, who throws her arms around his neck and kisses
him hard on the cheek.
“Mom?”
Christian gazes down at her, completely at a loss.
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Grace whispers,
voicing our collective fear.
“Mom, I’m here.” I hear the consternation in his voice.
“I died a thousand deaths today,” she whispers, her
voice barely audible, echoing my thoughts. She gasps and
sobs, no longer able to hold back her tears. Christian
frowns, horrified or mortified—I don’t know which—then
after a beat, envelops her in a hu
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