Mister West

by R. J. Lewis

  I stare at him like he’s just ripped my heart out because I know what he’s saying, and I’m terrified it means what I think it means.

  “He doesn’t remember me,” I say slowly.

  Steven looks at me sadly. “No.”

  Thirty-Three

  Ivy

  I’m sitting inside the tub, trying to breathe. I bolted out of there straight after Steven said No to me. I can’t let anyone see me fall apart.

  I bury my face in my hands.

  Ana’s speaking to Steven, but I can’t hear what they’re saying. Blood’s rushing in my ears and I feel woozy as fuck. I feel weak. Sick and weak and like I want to sob. In fact, why did Steven have to come here? I prefer heartbreak to this.

  Yeah, why? Why did he come at all?

  I climb out of the tub and whip the door open. I hurry into the living room. Steven is drinking a cup of water when he looks at me. The color drains from his face because he can see I’m furious.

  “Why are you here?” I demand, shaking everywhere. “I don’t understand. Why come here to tell me this?”

  It feels like punishment.

  Steven stands up and faces me, holding his hands out. “It wasn’t to hurt you, I promise.”

  “Really, because it feels like my heart is being smashed to bits –”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  He goes still, staring back at me with wide eyes. “I do, actually! Aidan is like a brother to me. I watched him fall and then I watched him rise like a fucking phoenix rises from the ashes. He rebuilt himself, Ivy. He turned himself into something incredible…a few years ago.” He adds that last bit and stares at me intently, waiting for me to understand his point.

  I feel extra dizzy now. I grip the armchair with my fist, squeezing it. My breaths are coming out faster, realization sinks in like razor blades to the soul.

  “Fuck,” I curse. “No. No. No.”

  Steven nods, relieved he doesn’t have to lay it out for me.

  But Ana is hovering nearby, confused. “What the fuck is going on?”

  I look at her, but I’m not really seeing her. I’m seeing Aidan when he was vulnerable, Aidan when he was sweet. I’m seeing Aidan when he looked at me from across the table and told me he loved.

  “He’s not the Aidan we know anymore,” I force out. “He’s back to being the other Aidan, isn’t he? Because that’s all he knows now.”

  “Wait,” Ana says, fighting to catch up. “The old Aidan? You mean…the asshole Aidan from all those years ago?”

  “He’s a cunt,” Steven spits out, simply. He sounds exasperated now, and he’s back to pacing the room. “His arrogance knows no bounds.”

  “Why don’t you just tell him he isn’t like that anymore?”

  “The doctor said he can’t have that planted into his head. Telling someone with retrograde amnesia what they were like is simply informing them of experiences they were exposed to. He needs to experience and learn himself all over again. It needs to be an organic growth. We don’t…” He stops in front of me, looking at me with almost a plea in his gaze. “Ivy, we don’t have Ruth anymore to save him.”

  Now I understand why he’s here. I let out a hard laugh, shaking my head at him. “He doesn’t even remember me, Steven. I can’t just rescue a guy that doesn’t know me, that doesn’t…love me.” My voice breaks. This is too hard. I can’t bear it anymore. I turn away from Steven and try to calm down.

  “You got through to him once,” Steven says quietly. “You can do it again.”

  “I don’t even know what he was like!” I retort. “He told me never to look him up because he was terrified of what I’d think of him.”

  “You would have to now,” he replies. “You would need to know everything.”

  Ana visibly shudders. “Brace yourself, honey.”

  “Even if I did know everything, even if I went to see him, I have no guarantee he will feel the same way he felt when he spoke to me the first time we met.”

  “That’s true,” Steven acknowledges. “But what if he does?”

  I frown.

  “Can’t he regain his memories another way?” Ana asks. “Isn’t there some sort of hypnosis he can go under?”

  “We’ve tried everything. It’s gone, all of it. No one knows if it will ever return.”

  “Does it ever do?”

  “It’s case by case. Spontaneous recovery isn’t unheard of, but it’s also rare. Sometimes Aidan gets a random flash, an image of something he doesn’t understand, but that’s it. There’s no context behind it. It’s just random pictures in his mind that come and go. If I explained what he was like by the end, I don’t think he’d believe me. Aidan’s stubborn now. He refuses to listen to anyone. The doctor is adamant this must be experienced and not told. It needs to be a natural transformation.”

  Ana bunches her lips to the side, looking at me, gauging my thoughts.

  My thoughts are a mess.

  Steven lets out a long exhale. “Look, Ivy, this is the only option I have left to bring him back.”

  “But you’re not bringing him back,” I reply. “You’re just trying to rebuild him into who he was before.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  I don’t answer straightaway.

  He’s getting desperate. “You don’t want him to be the way he was before, the way he is now.”

  Now I’m concerned. “Is he back on drugs?”

  “No, not that I have seen. He has no urges. I think he was very thankful about that. It was a rare moment of vulnerability on his side when he began to process everything. He’s…been on his own ever since.”

  I rub my chest again. The thought of Aidan looking vulnerable when he realized he had no urge to go back to substance abuse breaks me.

  “So what the hell do you want me to do exactly?” I force myself to ask.

  “Go to him,” he answers.

  “Tell him who I am?”

  “No, absolutely not.”

  “So what then?”

  “You’d need to get close to him. See him all the time. Maybe…maybe work for him.”

  I give him a dry look. “Steven, I’m a hairdresser who writes sob stories on the side.”

  “Be his personal assistant. He’s fired his last one recently. She was too…” Steven pauses, looking embarrassed. “He said she was too…”

  “Too what?” I prod.

  “He said her butt wasn’t big enough.”

  Silence.

  I just stare at him. Is he being serious? It’s a fucked-up joke to tell right now. Really bad timing. I glance at Ana. She…doesn’t look surprised. Her eyebrows are up and she’s looking anywhere but me.

  Oh, my fucking God.

  “Just how much of an asshole was…er, is he?”

  “Astronomical.”

  “And Ruth got through to him?”

  “Yes, she did.”

  Now I’m the one pacing.

  Ruth practically raised him.

  I didn’t bloody raise him.

  He fell in love with me and I told him I wasn’t ready.

  Such a fool.

  “You had him wrapped around your finger,” Ana tells me. “If you did it once, you can do it a second time, right? Plus, you’re better than you’ve ever been before. You’re ready.”

  I don’t respond.

  “You were his endgame,” Steven adds. “He loved you.”

  I stop moving and turn to him. Heavy emotion is coursing through my body as I cry out, “Listen to yourself, Steven. He loved me. Loved. As in past tense. I don’t think you understand what it’s like trying to process the fact that the love of your life, the man you stupidly pushed away, that you would do anything to have back, is gone!”

  I can’t just waltz back into Aidan’s life. I’m not strong enough to look him in the eyes and see nothing there. I can’t. How am I supposed to live through that sort of grief?

  I collapse back into the armchair and shut my eyes. I shouldn’t have g
one in the first place.

  “You have to understand if she doesn’t want to go,” Ana speaks concernedly. “This could destroy her.”

  “I do understand,” Steven replies sympathetically. “Ivy, you don’t need to explain yourself if you can’t do this.”

  “Where would she even go?” Ana asks now. “Is he here? Has he been here this entire time?”

  “No, she would need to travel.”

  “She’s got work.”

  “I know. I would pay for all the expenses. This wouldn’t be for free.”

  “I doubt she cares about taking your money. I’m only saying she’s got a job here and a life here.”

  “I only meant I’d help take care of everything so she had nothing to worry about.”

  I can’t do this.

  I’m not strong enough.

  He’s forgotten about me.

  Just like that I’ve been unwritten. I’m nothing to him. There is nothing left of me in him. I can feel the tears coming. I’ve done so well holding them in. I swallow hard, burying my face in my hands. Just this morning I was heartbroken, and now I’m heartbroken in an entirely new way.

  Fate is cruel.

  “Where is he then?” Ana continues as I ravage myself internally. “On some beach in Cuba?”

  “No,” Steven answers. “He is by a beach, but not the kind you’re thinking of.”

  “Where?”

  “For some reason he’s hiding out on Vancouver Island.”

  “But why there?”

  “I have no idea. He bought this giant Georgian house on a bit of land, a small walk away from a pebbled beach.”

  Oh, my God.

  Shock runs through me. It’s a cold, jolt of a feeling. I drop my hands, eyes wide, my brain running through my memories, of me standing along the Rideau Canal, of Aidan looking down at me as I told him what home looked like. We’d talked about freedom. I remember his answer.

  “I’m living it, Ivy. It was a second chance at life, at not being shackled to the past, to my mistakes. Sometimes…it catches up to me, certain things I try to let go, but…I’m looking ahead. You have to keep looking ahead.”

  My heart opens as I let the hope in. He told me what freedom was like. He needs to learn it again.

  He’s in a home I wanted. A home that is exactly how I pictured myself living in. I had told him this.

  I’m in there somewhere. This is proof of it.

  “Okay,” I whisper determinedly. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  Steven and Ana pause and turn to me. They’re surprised. I am, too.

  I look at them, standing up slowly. “I’ll go to him. I’ll try to bring him back. But first you gotta tell me something.”

  “What?” Steven asks.

  “Is my butt big enough?”

  Thirty-Four

  Ivy

  Ana: I miss you already. Call me every day, twice a day, or as many times as you need. I’m here for you. I can’t believe you’re doing this, but I think Steven is right. I think this will help Aidan. Who knows? Maybe he will take one look at you and remember everything. Sort of like those movies, right? He’ll get a flashback of everything. And if not, he will fall madly in love with you all over again, like he did the first time. You guys have had a romantic story this far. I can’t see this not being a possible outcome.

  I re-read Ana’s message, feeling hopeful, and scared.

  I look out the window. It’s rainy and misty out. The drive has been long from Victoria. Surrounded by the most picturesque scenery, we’ve been taking winding roads for ages now. It has been so long since I’ve breathed this island’s air. I feel so much nostalgia of my time here when I was sixteen, but it’s not as strong as the panic and nerves coursing through me.

  My knee is bopping up and down. I look over my clothes again. I want to look my best. I’m in a blue flowery dress with pretty gold sandals. It’s not personal assistant clothes, I know, but I figure it’s going to make a good impression.

  Personal assistant. I want to laugh. I don’t know what the hell I’ll be doing. Steven hired me on behalf of Aidan and gave me a list of shit to do. I’m supposed to look after Aidan and all his needs, whatever that may entail. I’m going to have to actually work under him and get paid for it. Part of me hopes he’ll know who I am instantly. Maybe he’ll have gotten flashes of me in his memory and, like Ana said, it’ll hit him.

  The taxi begins to slow down. The driver peers out of his window, carefully watching every home that goes by. I think he’s checking the address. These homes are very spaced apart and huge. Mansion sort of huge with huge bits of land in front of them. He continues for a long time, until the gaps between homes gets bigger and bigger, and now they’re backing onto moss covered forest land.

  He slows down completely in front of big, black iron gates that are spread open and turns in. My heart jumps because it means we’re here. I look ahead at the road leading up to the white and tan brick and stone home. This place is huge. Bigger than I had ever fantasized myself being in, but it has all the signature makings of a Georgian home: the matching chimneys, squared symmetrical dimensions, white entrance columns and panelled windows.

  I clasp my hands together tightly. My brain goes blank. I’m here and I want to turn back. The nerves are climbing up my throat. I want to vomit.

  The car stops and the driver unlocks the doors. He gets out and moves to the trunk. The car jostles as he removes my suitcase. I’m not moving. I stare ahead, not even thinking. I’m scared. Really scared. Because I sort of know what I’m going to expect.

  I read about Aidan West.

  I did my homework.

  He was right. Oh, he was so right when he warned me I would not like him. Well, he used stronger words. He expressed I would hate him, but I can’t do that.

  Is his past self as bad as everyone warned me?

  Yes.

  Yes, it is.

  Is this going to be an astronomical task if he does not remember me?

  Also yes.

  It’s why I’m terrified right now, but hopeful too. I think he’ll see me and get a feeling. He’ll know that he knows me. He’ll know deep down that he loves me.

  I hope so, anyway.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s okay, Ivy. You can do this. Look how far you've come. How bad can it be?”

  Shaking, I open the door and step out. I nearly trip over my feet because I’m not thinking straight. The driver rolls my suitcase up to me.

  “Thank you so much,” I say, and then I’m digging into my purse, pulling out cash. I leave him a huge tip and he grins at me, looking pleased.

  He slips back into the car and drives out, leaving me completely alone. I take hold of the suitcase handle and turn to the house. I move slowly, taking my time getting to the front door. There are steps and the suitcase is way too heavy for me to climb up them. I ditch the suitcase at the bottom, hopeful that Aidan will help me bring it in.

  I climb up the steps and hover outside the door. I run my hands down my body, flattening out any wrinkles. I push my hair behind my ears. I recently dyed a bunch of strands red because I know how much he loved those. I’m looking fresh. I’m looking good.

  This is it.

  I raise my finger and press down on the doorbell. I can hear it out here, the loud chime, my entrance broadcasted to him.

  I wait a few minutes.

  Then I can hear footsteps on the other side, but they’re sharp, pointed. I don't like that sound, I realize.

  The door opens. I don’t know why, but my eyes are on the floor, peering intently at the source of the sound. I see red heels and long smooth legs. I look up. I’m looking straight into the eyes of a blonde-haired woman. Her hair is chin length and razor straight.

  My chest sinks because I recognize her instantly.

  Nina Hamilton.

  No, no, no.

  “Babe,” she calls out, looking me over with a raised brow, “there’s a homeless girl on your porch and I think she’s about to sell
me something.”

  My heart is beating heavily. “No,” I quickly say. “I’m Aidan’s personal assistant –”

  “She’s calling you by your first name!” she interrupts, looking extra disgusted by me. “We don’t want what you’re selling.”

  She slams the door hard on my face.

  Bitch.

  I feel weak everywhere.

  I take a moment and breathe. I’m shaky and part of me wants to flee. Nina is back in Aidan’s life. Why didn’t Steven tell me this? He would have. He must not have known.

  She was axed out of Aidan’s life for a reason. She was toxic. He cut her out, goddammit. Why the hell is she here? Unless…

  My breaths slow.

  Aidan doesn’t remember discarding her. He doesn’t know he left her. Oh, my fucking God.

  This is over before it even began.

  At the same time, I rationalize this can’t be over. He never loved her. She fuelled his chaos, and he was drawn to her for it.

  This bitch doesn’t belong here.

  I do.

  Aidan is mine. He loves me.

  I’m shaking, but not from nerves or panic. I’m shaking from anger. I ring the doorbell again, and this time I follow that by pounding on the door with my fist.

  Fuck Nina Hamilton.

  She’s about to meet Ivy Montcalm, and Ivy does not share her man.

  Footsteps sound again. This time they’re heavier. I brace myself because I know who it is. I know who will answer.

  The door whips open, and Aidan stands there in nothing but suit pants, his chest bare, his face covered in stubble, his hair longer than I’ve ever seen it before.

  He looks directly in my eyes and his brows furrow.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he growls.

  I’m fucked.

  …END OF PART ONE…

  Author Note

  If you’re reading this, then you made it past Book 1. Congrats. That was a long read, huh? I’ve learned recently that it’s best to write the full story and not cut corners, which means the reads are going to be longer, but it’s the only way I feel I can do my characters justice.