Remember Me by Sharon Sala Page A

those dark, tear-stained eyes and wanted to kiss her. As much as he wanted to give in to the urge, he stood fast. He’d been behaving like a fool ever since she’d come home. She would probably slap him.
    â€œYes, it does.”
    She sniffled, then wiped her face with the end of her blanket.
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œI promise,” he said softly; then he eyed the empty end of the sofa she was sitting on. “Want some company?”
    Frankie’s heart stopped. Could this be an offering of peace? “Yes, please.”
    He circled the sofa, but instead of settling beside her, he scooped her up, blanket and all, and sat her in his lap.
    Frankie held her breath, waiting to see what came next.
    â€œComfortable?” he asked softly, settling her firmly into the crook of his arm and rewrapping the blanket across her legs.
    Frankie’s heart was pounding. “Yes,” she whispered.
    â€œWarm enough?”
    Words left her. She nodded.
    â€œWhere’s the remote?”
    She handed it to him, watching as his thumb centered on the volume and upped it a notch.
    â€œCan you hear that okay?” he asked.
    Over the thunder of my heart? “It’s fine.”
    â€œOkay, then.”
    Once again she managed to became lost in the heroine’s confusion. It wasn’t until the last scene was playing that she let out a sigh of relief. She looked up at Clay, her eyes bright, her heart lighter.
    â€œI love happy-ever-after endings, don’t you?”
    He smiled and nodded, but his belly was in a knot. After everything he’d put her through, she was still the gentle, forgiving woman that he’d fallen in love with and married. Why hadn’t he seen that before? Why, when she’d virtually returned from the dead, had he seen nothing but negatives? He should have been down on his knees thanking God, not looking for lies.
    â€œFrankie, I am so sorry.”
    She stilled. The moment she’d been praying for was finally here, and she was afraid to move for fear she would wake up and find herself dreaming. She bit her lip, then tentatively reached for him, cupping the side of his face. His eyes closed as he turned toward her touch, then he kissed the palm of her hand.
    â€œI don’t do drugs,” she said, her voice shaking.
    He leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. “I know, baby, I know.”
    â€œI don’t know how the needle marks got on my arms, but I didn’t—”
    â€œHush,” Clay begged, and pulled her into an embrace.
    Frankie shuddered. Of all the emotions she was feeling right now, the most overpowering was that of being safe.
    â€œI’m not lying to you. I want to remember.”
    â€œI know,” Clay said. “And you will…when it’s time.”
    She sighed. “I don’t know where I was, but I came back to you, didn’t I?”
    Clay’s conscience pricked. Why hadn’t that been enough?
    â€œYes, Francesca, and I will be forever grateful that you did.”
    A long silence ensued before Frankie spoke again. This time, it was for him that she worried.
    â€œIt was terrible for you, wasn’t it?”
    His arms tightened around her as he remembered the endless days and nights of torture, imagining her in every terrible situation—at times believing her dead. He nodded.
    â€œI’m sorry this happened to us.” She sighed, her voice full of regret. “We were so happy.”
    Clay looked up. “And we will be again. It just takes time to get past the shock.” He tried to smile. “Sometime after the first year had passed, I guess I gave up hope. In my heart, I believed you were dead. It was the only reason I could think of for why you would stay away.”
    Frankie wanted to cry all over again, only this time for her and Clay, not for the movie. “I can understand that, but I obviously didn’t give up on myself or on us. I came back to you, Clay.