by Daisy Allen
I know she does. Her body tells me, her eyes tell me. Her music tells me.
She plays for me and only me. I take a step forward, pressing myself against her and almost every part of our bodies is touching.
Her legs against mine. Her stomach against mine. Her chest against mine. I let go of her arm and slide my hand up around her back.
"Forgive me.” I say again. “I’ll regret this for the rest of my life if I don't do it."
And I kiss her.
I press my lips against her so hard her teeth grazes against my mouth and the sting of my lip thrills me. I feel her arms reach up behind me and grip the fabric of my T-shirt as she melts into the kiss.
God, I want her so much, it's like a sweet cyanide running through my body. Delicious and dangerous. Deadly. My tongue slips into her mouth and she tastes like wild berries. Her tongue soft and warm against mine.
"God, Noémie," I hear myself moan her name and she sigh against my mouth before our lips find each other's again and we kiss.
We kiss so long my lungs are empty and I pull apart only in the pure need for breath.
Our mouth disengage, but our bodies are still pressed against each other’s, fusing into one.
"Jez," she whispers, her hand coming up to touch my face.
Her lips are plump, almost bruised from my kiss and I run my thumb along them.
"Sweet Noémie," I say. And I want to say so much more, but I can't.
She looks at me, her chest rising and falling as she gasps for breath. She looks like everything I've ever wanted and didn't know I needed. And she's here with me. Everything is perfect.
I pull away, lean over and press a soft kiss to her lips and whisper what I came here to say.
"Goodbye, Noémie. Take care."
And I turn and walk to my room.
Never turning back.
Never looking back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Noémie
I'm so shocked that it takes me a moment to realize that he's leaving.
"Jez!" I call out after him, my feet finally on the move. I turn into the hallway, but he's already too far ahead. "Jez!" I call out again, just as I see him walk into his room and pull the door closed. But the time I get there, the curtain is pulled and I can't see into his room. The bodyguard stands up and gently touches me on the shoulder.
"He doesn't want to see anyone right now. I’m sorry."
"Please! I really need to..."
"Sorry. I can't let you in," he cuts me off. And from the look on his face he really is sorry. I know, though, that there's nothing I can say or do that will change his mind.
I stand there for a moment, my forehead leaning against the cold glass, willing him to surprise me and appear on the other side. But he doesn't.
I sigh, and walk back to my room, trying to make sense of what has just happened.
He kissed me.
And I kissed him.
He might've made the first move, but there was no question, it's what I wanted. Maybe even more than he did. And now I want him even more. My body is still zinging with the emotions from being pressed against him.
His breath was my breath. With one kiss, he brought me alive, and destroyed me all at once.
***
He's not at the elevator the next day at the time for his PT appointment. His curtain and door were pulled closed whenever I peeked out of mine to see if he might be available to talk. But I thought he'd at least make it to his PT appointment.
But he's not there.
I wait for over half an hour.
Toni gives me a long look as I stand there, but she says nothing.
Eventually I go downstairs and Brian tells me that Jez has organized his own PT and won't be using the hospital's services anymore.
He gives me a look similar to Toni's, and tells me that I've been really helpful in Jez' sessions.
And thanks me.
He thanks me for helping Jez. And I have to hold in a snicker. I'm helping Jez for me. Because I want him well and healthy. For me. Everything I do for Jez is for me because I care about him so much. This mystery man from my past that I don't remember has become my reason for everything.
***
"So, I’ll be back around 5 p.m. tomorrow, okay? To pick you up. I'll take what I can today, and grab the rest tomorrow." Paige rambles on as she has all day.
"Okay," I say, absentmindedly. I'm not really listening to what she's saying, just staring out the window.
"Oi!" she yells, finally getting my attention.
"Wha?"
"What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?"
"Argh. Paige -- when we get home, you will only get to ask me that once a day. If I'm not lying on the floor unconscious or bleeding from the head, just assume I'm okay."'
"Fine, sorry for caring." She pouts and I roll my eyes and poke my tongue out at her. "Ugh. you're lucky I love you."
"Very lucky, the luckiest." I shoo her away and start packing the last of my clothes and things into the suitcase she left for me. There's not much. Just a few pairs of jeans, a book or two.
And my ukulele. I didn't let her touch that.
I run my fingers over it, and the song from last night instantly appears in my head again. It's still early and I don't want to bother the other patients, so I just sit and listen to it in my head.
Grabbing the music manuscript paper that's always in my uke case, I start writing it down.
Note by note the song appears in front of me. Like words on a page, but better. I play the music over in my head, checking my mistakes, and then I add the lyrics.
I can't help but tear up as I write. This song is the best thing I've ever composed.
The truest, most honest. The simplest.
And a part of me wishes that I could play this song for the world, because then they would understand me.
It's done.
I print the title on top and place it on the tray.
Finish packing, Noémie, I tell myself. It's time to go home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jez
There's an envelope on the floor by the door when I wake up; it must’ve been slid under there sometime during the night. I can see my name scribbled on the front. But there's nothing else that tells me what's inside.
Well, it's not a bloody bomb, I think. No reason to be so scared.
I sigh and get out of bed and pick the envelope off the floor.
I brace myself for my fingers to scream with pain, but they don’t ache more than a little. My progress gives me a little hope to start the day. I hold the large envelope in my hands, turning it over. It's thick, maybe 4-5 pages of paper inside. I hold it up to light but there are no extra clues.
I take a breath and tear it open, pulling the flat sheets from the yellow envelope.
It's from her.
I can tell from the handwriting. Sloped, large loops, deeply romantic.
It reads,
Dearest Jez,
I'm leaving today.
Apparently my brain's problems are not physical, and if it weren't for not forgetting you, I'd think everything was back to normal.
But it may never be.
Anyway, I'm leaving today.
But I have something for you.
I hope it tells you everything we never had the opportunity to say.
Take care.
- N
I peel the front sheet from the stack and place it gently on the bed.
It's music.
She's written a song. She’s written me a song.
The notes play themselves in my brain when my eye scans over them, like the rest of the world reads words.
It's the piece she was tinkering with the other night while I stood outside listening.
It's beautiful.
And then I read aloud the words written underneath.
Pour Jeremy.
For Jeremy.
For me.
I hug it to my chest. A piece of her to keep with me, forever
.
***
"So, we're going to take you to the Beverley Wilshire for a while, give you some time to adapt to not being in the hospital and having round-the-clock care. Then you can decide if you want to stay here or go back to London. Wherever you decide, you name it, we'll be there,” Dennis tells me.
"Fine," I tell him, not that it matters.
"Can I have these?" Brad holds up a pair of the hotel slippers. He drops them on the floor and slides his feet into them before I can answer. Emily rolls her eyes and gives me a wink. I smile back at her, and how obviously in love with him she is. Lucky bastard.
I look around the room. They're all paired off. Cadey and Seb. Emily and Brad. Even Marius... is with my little sister, Anca.
We're still us, I guess. But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that they're happier than I've ever seen them. And I've been with them pretty much every day since we were thirteen years old.
Fifteen years later, the happiest I've ever seen them is now, when they're in love with women who understand them.
She understands you.
She helped you when no one else could.
She got you to make a fucking fist, when you thought it was the hardest thing to do in the world.
I sit up, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
She's leaving, she wrote it twice just to make sure I knew.
Why did she send me that song, WHY? Why did she write it for me?
It’s time to make a choice, the same choice that always comes up in life.
Fight or flight.
Fight or flight?
“Come on!” I say out loud, not caring that they all turn to me, staring. “Fight or flight, fucker?”
Fight.
Always fight.
I slide out of bed and ignore everyone shouting at me as I run down the hall way to her room. I pull the door open and she's standing there, looking at the window, her hand up around her neck.
I walk straight to her, as she spins around and looks at me, her eyes wide, waiting for me to say something.
“It’s time to make a choice,” I say.
“What are you talking about?”
“Me or him, Noémie.” Fight or flight? She stares at me, her mouth falling open. So I say it one last time. “Make the choice. Me or him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Noémie
"Me or him," he repeats.
Like he needs to, as if it's a choice.
Him. Of course him. But it's not as easy as that, I open my mouth to tell him.
But it's too late.
"What's going on?" Chris is at the door, another gawdy bunch of flowers in his hand.
Jez walks toward him before I can stop him.
"I'm sorry, man. I don't mean to do this but... this is between me and Noémie." He turns back to me, his eyes bright, but he's smiling. He knows it's him. Of course it's him.
"Chris,” I say, looking past Jez. One thing at a time. I need to do this properly.
"What's going on Noémie?" He moves to me, and I have to remind myself who he is, and to be kind.
"I'm sorry, Chris."
"Sorry for what? Come on, let's get you ready to go."
"Me or him, Noémie," Jez repeats.
"What is this dickhead on about?"
"I'm asking her to choose, man,” Jez cuts in. “You or me."
“Jez. No.” I shake my head.
Chris look to me, then Jez then back again. A look of incredulousness on his face. "Wait. You're not seriously saying that you're going to choose him."
"I'm really sorry, Chris,” I say.
"This is total horse shit. You’re my girlfriend! Mine!” He says it like he owns me. And not for the first time I can’t figure out how I could have ever been with him. I guess that’s for past Noémie to know.
“Is she? She doesn’t even remember who you are, does she?” Jez asks him
“Does she remember who you are?” Chris spits back at him, his face slipping into an ugly mask.
Jez shakes his head and shrugs. “No, it appears she doesn’t. So, then it seems to me you and I are in the same boat. And she’s the only one who can choose. Noémie, who are you going to choose?” He grins, and I want to pinch him for being so cocky. And right.
“Chris, look, I’m sorry.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” He looks me up and down, contempt in his eyes. I feel dirty just standing near him.
“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I hurt you.” I force myself to reach out to him. To know I never meant it to turn out like this.
“You little bitch.” He spits at me. “I know who he is. You’re just being a little gold digger. First freeloading off Paige, and now this loser.”
I’ve barely processed what he’s said when I feel Jez move, rushing towards him, his hand in a fist pulling back as if to punch him.
“Jez, no!” I pull back on his arm, holding as tight as I can.
He stops, but his face is red, his eyes hard, angry. Chris just looks right back at him, his eyes unreadable, slippery, grey.
“Fuck it. You’re not worth it.” Jez spins around to face me. “Let’s go, Noémie.”
“Go?” I repeat, and I can’t think of anything more I want than to leave with him.
“Right now. Let’s go, grab your things and come with me right now.” He looks even more alive than when he finally could hold a pen that day in PT.
“You’re not fucking serious,” Chris hisses. I’d almost forgotten he was there.
“What do you care?” Jez says, not bothering to look at him.
Chris snickers, “I don’t. Good luck to you. She’s going to make you regret it,” he says as he throws the flowers onto the bed and storms out of the room, taking his noxious aftershave with him. I can’t think about him now. Hopefully I never will again.
“You ready?” Jez asks me, and all I can do is nod and grim. He grabs my hand and moves toward the door.
“Wait.” He stops and let’s go of my hand. And my heart sinks.
He’s changed his mind, already. I’m too much work. I watch as he walks over to my bed and picks up my ukulele and tucks it under his arm as he takes my hand in his again.
“Can’t leave that.”
I grin at him so big I must look like an absolute fool.
He grins right back, just as foolishly, making me throw my head back and laugh. I’m so happy I can barely contain it.
“Let’s go.” I’m the one to say it, this time.
He nods. “Let’s go.”
Our hands entwined, we run to the elevator and the doors open immediately. We climb on and as the doors close behind us, I see a crowd running towards us from Jez’s room. He just waves to their confused faces and I burst out laughing again, my heart brimming with joy.
We turn to face each other and the smiles on our faces soften.
And fade.
The look in his eyes now burning hot.
It makes me burn for him in return.
“Noémie,” he whispers. His voice full of lust. And my body lunges forward, to be with him.
He catches me, and we kiss.
We kiss like we’ve longed to kiss.
Like there’s nothing and nobody else in the world.
His mouth is hot, almost searing against mine, and I feel something between my legs start to pulse.
“God,” I moan, scratching my nails down his back.
“You are going to be the death of me, girl,” he growls. “But I’ll go willingly if I can keep kissing you.”
“Shut up and just do it,” I say, and he does.
It takes someone clearing their throat before we realize the elevator has reached the lobby and that people are waiting to get on. Jez takes my hand and we run out, out past the front desk, out of our prison and through the front entrance.
He flags down a cab and climbs in after me.
“Where to?” he asks me.
“I don’t know!” I laugh.
‘Anywhere in the world, I m
ean it. Anywhere.”
“Seriously?”
“Never more so.”
And I know exactly where I want to go.
***
Four hours later, I’m standing in front of the Eiffel Tower.
Not that real one, of course. But the closest thing to it.
By the time our cab had reached LAX, Jez had a private plane waiting for us. For me. Oh my god.
He'd asked me one more time, where I wanted to go, and the answer was the same.
Paris.
It's always been Paris. I didn't expect to be taken there, of course. We didn't have anything with us. Just the clothes on our back and an old ukulele. And each other.
But when I climbed those stairs up to the plane, the wind in my hair, Jez's hand on my back, an open sky in front of me, I really thought we could just about go anywhere in the world.
So we did, we went to Paris.
Well, the closest thing to it.
When we landed, right there on the tarmac in Las Vegas was a limo. Again, for us, for me.
And it whisked us away, to a penthouse suite at the Bellagio across from the Paris Las Vegas Hotel.
And now I’m looking at the Eiffel Tower.
She's lit up like the world’s most beautiful Christmas tree. Sparkling lights towering up into the sky, lording over the famous dancing fountains of the Bellagio hotel.
Standing behind me, his chest against my back, his face tucked against my neck, his lips brushing on my cheek, is Jez.
And I'm in bliss.
"I hope this is okay, it's the best I could do on such short notice," he says.
I think I’m being cool about everything but apparently not, because Jez whispers into my ear "why the big sigh?"
I giggle and spin around, still encased in his embrace, and wrap my arms around his neck.
He smiles down at me, and it's brighter than the Eiffel tower.
"Thank you," I sigh happily.
"What for?"
"For everything. For being you. For rescuing me."
"Thank you for choosing me."
"I really didn't have any choice."
