The Last Kiss: A Standalone Romance Novel (The Notting Hill Sisterhood Book 1)

by Anna Bloom

  Silly, Julianna.

  Stupid, Julianna.

  It was all just a one-night stand that went epically wrong.

  30

  For whom the bell tolls

  I wait all night. All. Night.

  At three I ask the nurse on the literal graveyard shift if she’s got some matchsticks to keep my eyes open. She laughs and says no, but she can hold my hand instead. We pass an hour, her talking, filling the space in the room. I breathe less and less. There’s a weird sensation in my feet.

  “What’s wrong with them?” I ask.

  “Just some swelling. Want me to get a damp cloth to cool them down?”

  “No, it’s not too bad.”

  “Would you like some water?”

  I can’t remember when I last drank anything. Strangely, I don’t feel empty. I shake my head and the nurse gets up to adjust the drips going into my arm, frowning as she looks under the bed. Without a word she resettles and picks my hand back up. This time though she doesn’t talk.

  We both wait.

  At seven she pats my hand and says it’s the end of her shift and I groan at the sunlight outside the window. I can’t even die right. I can’t slip away in the night to spare my sister the pain. No. Of course I can’t. I’ve got to put her through another day of this. Another day of goodbye.

  The tea lady comes in with her trolley, but I just shake my head. Tea can’t do anything now, and even if I fancied one, I don’t think I’d be able to keep it down. My stomach is twisted into tight knots.

  As expected, Liv rushes in, straight to my face, clasping it in her hands. “I knew I’d see you again.”

  “J-just so d-damn lucky.”

  I see her frown as she looks at my face. “I spoke to Rebecca last night. She wanted to come and see you, but I told her no. I think she thinks you’re just having a turn.”

  “Have they f-folded?”

  Liv’s lips flicker. “I knew you’d ask that. She said to tell you no, but yes.”

  Strange relief washes through me. At least she can’t fuck up the print run now.

  “I’m going to go and get some ice for you; you can suck on the chips.”

  “No.” I grip her arm, my hold so feeble it’s actually flickering on my embarrassment register.

  “Please, Jules. Am I the only one still holding out hope that a heart is going to come?”

  I give the most pathetic snorting laugh I have ever mustered. “Only you, sis.”

  “Well, I am,” she states resolutely. “And I’m going to get ice.” She’s fiddling with her phone. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  I huff a short puff of a laugh. God it feels good to almost smile. The machines don’t like it though and one of them starts to beep a really annoying high-pitched wail.

  Liv grabs my hand and a nurse rushes in checking me over and then the machines. “Just a loose wire.” She peers at me closely and I catch the sympathetic smile she gives Liv. “You comfortable, Julia?”

  “Jules, please, and yes.” I think they are giving me something in the tubes. Whatever it is, it’s got a nice fluffy edge to it.

  “Okay. Ice.” Liv turns just as the door bangs open, making her and the nurse both jump. My heart, well…

  “Thank fuck.” Henri storms in, like a whirlwind of navy, just like how I first met him. “I thought I’d be too late.”

  Liv sighs. “Bloody hell, Henri.”

  “Sorry,” he barely glances at her. “The flight got delayed.” He leans over me, sunshine and wildflowers. “Ma petite, I’ve seen you look better.”

  “Y-you came.”

  “Of course, I came. Because I’m pretty damn sure you’re the love of my life, you bloody frustrating Englishwoman. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

  “Henri.” Tears prickle my eyes, slowly morphing into fast balls that torrent down my face. I don’t have anything else to give, just tears. “I’m s-so glad.” Breath. “Y-you’re here.”

  “Me too, ma petite. Now where’s this doctor? I want to discuss a new heart.”

  Liv’s gaze meets mine and her lips quirk in the corner. “I’m going to grab some breakfast, you guys okay?”

  I don’t answer because I’m too busy staring at Henri’s face, memorising every single speck of detail I can find. The crinkles around his eyes, the curve of his mouth, the dark lashes that pause on a blink just to prove how pretty they are.

  The nurse bustles out after giving Henri a stern talk on disrupting the tubes. He nods solemnly all the while stroking the back of my hand with his thumb, skirting around the plaster at the wound site of my French hospital stay. Then we are alone, unsaid words electrifying the air.

  “You came?” I wince as I try to move. With a gentle hand he pushes me back down.

  “Rest, mon coeur.”

  “I didn’t think. I’d see you again. Henri. I’m so sorry. Sorry about Odile. Sorry about. That stupid list. I promise.”

  “Julia.” I melt at the way he says my name. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I took my fears and regrets out on you, and I should have told you about Odile, you would have understood. Now you are here like this because of me.” He drops his dark head like a grieving angel. “This is all on me.”

  “Henri.” Breath. “I knew when I came to France that.” Breath. “It could happen. Dr Francis, he told me. I went straight to Liv’s and told her that I couldn’t not see you again.”

  “She must hate me.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What’s happening to you now?”

  I do my very best immobile French shrug. “Now everything shuts down, I think. It’s started, I’m so, so…”

  “Beautiful.” He drops a kiss on my forehead. “So beautiful.”

  “I’ve been.” Breath. “Trying to get rid of Liv. I don’t want her to be here at the end, don’t want her to remember me like that.”

  Henri’s face drops. “I know what it’s like, ma Julianna, but don’t take away her chance to say goodbye.” His face steels into something like a murderous mask of vengeance. “Not that you will need to, a heart will arrive. I have faith, it will.”

  Bless his little cotton socks.

  “It won’t. I’ve known for months. It won’t. My blood.” Breath. “’s unusual.”

  “So? So is mine? It shouldn’t be a big deal.”

  “I’m B. Negative. A match takes. Longer. Or something. I forget what they said.” My eyes are fluttering shut. Why, now that he’s here, is sleep stealing in?

  “Mine too.”

  Our eyes meet. His hand lifts mine pressing our palms flat together. I love the rough and smooth of his touch. Even our blood is the same, this unexpected soul mate of mine and me.

  “Henri,” I whisper, drawing in as much air as I can so I can try and say the important stuff clearly. “That day in the bar you changed my life. You kickstarted my living on the day I knew it was going to end.”

  “And you mine, my woman of mystery. Fate wanted you to be mine.”

  “Henri. I know how losing your dad.” I don’t think I can finish my words. I pause, mustering up the sounds that will articulate what I want to say. “Affected you. Please don’t let me do that to you too. I’m so glad you’re here, so glad I get to see that annoyingly handsome face one last time, but you need to leave with Liv.”

  I’m done. The words have taken what little I have left.

  “Are you insane?” The rest of his words are very fast and very angry, totally incomprehensible. “Non.”

  “Please, promise me.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. I will never leave you, not ever.”

  “Promise me,” I demand with the force of a kitten whisked up in a hurricane.

  He kisses me instead, lingering on my lips, and then sits and holds my hand.

  Liv sits with us for a while, and I doze in and out. Henri is looking at his phone and I’m pretty sure he’s on the dark web looking for an B negative heart.

  My eyes meet Liv’s and I give her an encour
aging nod. She shakes her head and I answer with another silent nod. Standing, she leans over, running her cool fingers down my face. “Love you.”

  “Love you.”

  Pale, she turns for the door. “Henri, you coming?”

  Startled, he stares between us. “Non.”

  She raises her arms at me. Was that her best effort, seriously? Jesus. The door opens as Dr Simmonds steps in, followed by Dr Francis.

  “Jules, how are you?” He steps for my chart and gives it a brief flick through.

  “Tickety boo.”

  He smiles and looks at Liv, while she looks at him with something like hope in her eyes. His lips press into firm line, eyes meeting hers, and her face falls, while that last little flicker of hope in my chest snuffs out.

  “Olivia?” he asks her. I’m struggling to hear. There’s some static in my ears I can’t focus around.

  I squeeze Henri’s hand, hoping to telecommunicate that he should listen for the both of us.

  “Liv,” she says.

  “The sister.” There’s a brief smile and that little kindle of hope flickers again… until he says, “Next of kin, I assume?”

  Boom. And there it goes.

  With a wave of his hand, he beckons her over and they talk in low voices with Dr Francis, gesturing at something on the chart; probably my newest and most pointless obs. They head back out, both doctors giving me gentle smiles that communicate sympathy. It’s not a new heart, but you know, the sentiment is there. Liv follows them outside, leaving just Henri and I. Me and my mystery man.

  “What were they saying?” I whimper to Henri.

  “Mon Coeur, I think they were saying that you should hang on.”

  I attempt a snort, but it sounds rather like blowing snot bubbles.

  I am so fucking tired.

  I reach shaky fingers for his. “I told you.”

  His fingers brush at my hair, delicately tracing down my cheek. “And I told you, ma petite fleur.”

  This is unfair. He’s breaking all the promises, every damn one. Taking a pickaxe to them and splintering them to pieces.

  Smash.

  A tear rolls from the corner of my eye and he catches it, popping it, caught on the tip of his finger, into his mouth. Smiling, stormy night eyes shining. “Another taste of you.”

  Unfair.

  Smash.

  I want to cry harder, want to give it some, but my chest hurts, every breath is like running a marathon just from sitting on the creaky sheet of a hospital bed. I hike in another gasped breath, as a large palm smooths my hair and lips press into the top of my head, a lifeline I want to cling onto even though I know my time is up.

  When I can breathe, I shift slightly, looking up to meet his gaze. “You promised me.” I guilt him with a deploring stare. Please leave, my eyes say, although my tongue is having a problem expressing the words. Stupid tongue.

  That look of beautiful solemnity comes over his face. It’s my favourite look, dark and brooding, all things that make my heart flutter. Stupid heart. Literally.

  “Ma petite Julianna, I never promised.” He leans a little closer, breath brushing my skin, making me ache for days full of sunshine, laughter, and tangled cotton sheets.

  My heart races again, pounding loud in my ears. I clutch at my chest, touch weak, barely holding myself together. That beautiful solemnity darkens into heartbreak. It splinters what’s left of me straight in two.

  “Henri, please.” I gasp his name, remembering another broken rule between us.

  No names.

  No strings.

  Yet here we sit. Rather, I lie; he stands, looking like a man on fire.

  Rules are there for a reason. I must remember that for my next life.

  Oh God. My breath comes even faster.

  The next life… it’s almost here and I still don’t know if I even believe. How can I go not knowing?

  Stop everything. I want a do over.

  This can’t be it.

  Strong fingers entwine with mine. “Ma petite fleur, look at me.”

  I do, unwillingly unable to keep my eyes from his. The shining pools staring back at me almost make me lose my mind. “I’ll never leave. Be damned any promise I ever made.”

  A smile ghosts my mouth. “Cheater.”

  He shrugs, pure Gaelic charm. “Hey, I never said I wasn’t.” The brightening of his face calms my heart, exhaustion tugs me down.

  I don’t want to close my eyes.

  What if I close them and nothing happens ever again?

  What if that’s it? Forever and ever.

  “Don’t be scared,” he whispers.

  Scared.

  “I am,” I whisper back.

  Turning my face with gentle fingers, he gently pushes a kiss on my lips. Even at the end of my days it’s still the most beautiful taste. Warm and succinct, just the perfect pressure, the perfect time, not too long, not too short.

  “I’m so glad I got to kiss you.”

  “Well…” His lips curve. “That’s not all we’ve done.”

  “Lay with me.” My fingers feebly tap the bed.

  “You know where that ends.” He frowns at the size of the hospital bed. He’s six four and built for rugby and doing things to me that turn me inside out and upside down.

  “Squeeze on.”

  Henri glances at the door. For an awful moment I think he’s going to leave me, that he’s going to do as I asked, but then he toes his shoes and kicks them off. Loafers on a hospital floor next to my unused fluffy slippers.

  He settles down, curving a protective embrace around my failing chest. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

  “Don’t be.”

  Dampness lands on my shoulder and I feel him sob gently, his large frame rocking me like a babe in arms.

  Undo me.

  But then I am undone.

  There’s nothing left to untangle.

  “I wish I could be your Juliette again, wish we could go back, do it all over.” I almost shout it. I don’t want to go to the other side of never without him knowing just what it’s meant, what he’s meant. Being his Juliette was magical, made the last few months something more than I ever would have thought they could have been. Being his Julianna… has changed my life.

  Henri turns, a tear still dangling on the edge of his dark lashes like the last droplet on a year of insanity.

  “You’ll always be my Juliette, my Julianna, my everything.” He’s humoured me so much, put up with my rules, the way I’ve needed things to be. I know he’s left everything to be here with me right here at the end. God, it really must be a love thing after all.

  I push my face into his chest, the cotton of his shirt, that spice that seems to cling to him. “I’m so glad I met you.”

  Using the tip of his finger he makes me look up. “Even though you fought me the whole way, ma petite fleur?” One of his dark brows arches. His teasing look. God, I love that look too.

  I love all his looks.

  Can’t believe I won’t get to see any of them again. Can’t believe that my stupid heart is going to fail, and no replacement can be found. Right when I want to…

  Want to…

  “Tell me what you’ll miss the most?” I ask the buttons on his shirt.

  Henri tightens his arms, and I could just melt right now. Become a puddle of chocolate ice cream against his sugar spun wafer. “You in black lace.”

  Ah, the lace.

  His hands on my thighs, riding silk and lace across skin that I didn’t know could be adored the way he did it.

  “Just the lace?”

  “Burnt pancakes. Coffee at midnight. Eurostar. Always wanting to find you and never knowing where I would see you again. Sand. Candy floss. Amber perfume on your skin.”

  Right now, in this very moment at the end of everything I am adored.

  “I love you,” I say.

  “And I love you.”

  I look up, blinking against everything that could have been. “Henri, you have to keep this pr
omise.”

  “What promise?”

  “The one you’re going to make now.”

  His face slips back to that beautiful shadow where the storm in his eyes brings rain and sun.

  “Hold me until I sleep and then leave.”

  Henri shakes his head, lips pressing into a firm line. “No.”

  “I want you to. Remember me with lace and amber. Candy floss and laughter. Not a corpse who lies in your arms.”

  “Ma pe—” another shake of his head, “Julianna, they still might find a match.”

  Aw, he’s so damn cute. Stupid big hulk of a man.

  “Hold me until I sleep.” I snuggle down, ignoring the beep of the machine as it shouts in dismay at my moving the tubes in my arm and airways.

  Tears roll from his lashes and absorb into my skin.

  My time is nearly up.

  Every breath.

  Every stuttered beat of my heart takes me one moment closer to the end. I’m so tired now. So drained. Energy is like treacle, moving too slow through my veins. Slug. Slug. Slug.

  God, if you are there…

  Thank you for bringing me the greatest gift I ever could have hoped for.

  I close my eyes. Henri’s hand brushes through my hair and I focus on the sensation: soothing, reassuring.

  He plants a kiss on my mouth. My last kiss.

  The last kiss.

  On the cusp of nothing, I hold everything as my lips whisper their last word, exhaustion tying me into a final bow I know I can’t undo.

  “Henri.”

  31

  The price of life

  I often wonder what it would have felt like to never have woken up. Would that dark abyss have just stretched forever? My search for a bright white light had only revealed more dark, more emptiness.

  I guess no one wants to know that’s what greets them.

  I would never have wanted to wake up if I’d known the chair next to the hospital bed was empty and would never be filled again.

  That inside of me belonged a B negative heart that shouldn’t have been mine.

  I would never have sat on that bar stool, never would have said yes to dinner, never have succumbed to that first kiss if I’d known that our last would have been so bitter.