Almost Forever Read online

Giddy, dizzy, I let myself believe in happiness.

  Time was ticking by on the rhythm of my blissful heart. The nostalgic playlist just made this moment even more poignant and unforgettable, frozen between dream and reality, between the past and the future together, at their zenith.

  ‘What time’s your flight?’ I asked.

  ‘Early tomorrow morning.’

  My face must have shown my disappointment as he pulled me even closer, if that was possible, and said, ‘Please let’s not talk about it.’ I rested my head against him, listening to his heart beating. ‘There is something I want to tell you.’ His voice was serious. ‘I want to tell you the exact moment I knew I loved you.’ My head snapped up, and he smiled, pleased to have my full attention. ‘You were almost fourteen,’ he said with an incredible sweetness in his voice.

  ‘I remember you were playing in the garden with Robert and Harry. Your cheeks were red from running, your hair looked like a bird’s nest, and your clothes were a mess of grass and mud stains, and still, I watched you guys in the garden from my bedroom window, instead of studying. That was when I knew I loved you.’

  I remembered that day really clearly too. It had been one of those rare occasions when Josephine was well enough to be out playing with us. So, we went crazy, over the top, happy.

  ‘What made you realise that?’ I asked, surprised.

  ‘The fact that even in such disarray I thought you were beautiful.’ He kissed my nose and continued. ‘And to me, that meant that I loved you for the amazing person you were and not the way you looked. Although, it would be a lie if I said that I didn’t fancy you. I loved everything about you: the way you moved, your mouth, your eyes, the bold colour of your hair, and above everything else, the way you fitted in my arms, as if you were meant for them.’

  He sighed. ‘That night I saw you in the soft pale blue dress you were wearing for dinner, the reflection of the candles shining in your eyes, your hair wrapped in an intricate plait, and I just felt such a strong physical attraction that confirmed what I already knew. Looking at you from the opposite side of the dining table, I realised I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I knew you were the one.’

  ‘Oh, Paul, why didn’t you say anything?’

  ‘Because you were only fourteen.’

  ‘So?’ I said with a pout.

  ‘So, I was too old for you back then.’ He shook his head. ‘The realisation that I’d have to wait several more years before I could tell you how I felt was a shockingly hard truth to come to terms with,’ he said, looking at me. ‘My heart broke a little at the thought that because I couldn’t tell you how I felt, you ended up loving …’ he stopped ‘… someone else.’ I knew he meant Harry.

  ‘I didn’t,’ I said.

  ‘I know that now.’ He laughed quietly at the memory. ‘Back then I was scared that someone would come and sweep you off your feet. I became very protective of you, keeping my friends away, staying away myself to ease my need. You cannot understand what you were doing to me. Having you near but not being able to be with you was pure torture.’

  ‘I loved you just as much, Paul. It was torture for me too,’ I confessed. ‘I wish you’d told me about your feelings; we could have saved ourselves the heartache of so many years apart,’ I said.

  He kissed me softly, then said, ‘Sorry, Fran, I never meant to hurt you.’

  ‘Make love to me, Paul,’ I said very quietly, looking into his beautiful eyes.

  I’d waited so long for this moment. Feared it and dreamed of it in equal measure, wondering when I’ll be ready for it. I knew this was the perfect time, but Paul shook his head. ‘It’ll make tomorrow so much harder to handle …’

  ‘No, it won’t,’ I said, stroking his cheek. ‘If anything, it will be the only thing that will help me survive tomorrow and the rest of the days until you come back to me.’

  ‘Fran,’ he said with a tormented look in his eyes.

  ‘I’m sure,’ I said, answering his unspoken question. ‘I want this; I want you,’ I said.

  He clenched his jaw and held me still in front of him for a moment, as if he wanted to see if there was a trace of doubt in my eyes. When he saw only unconditional love, he kissed me, slowly, tenderly, carefully, delaying the inevitable until neither of us could resist the need for each other any longer.

  ‘I love you,’ he said, lifting me in his arms. I couldn’t answer him because my voice was lost in the tumultuous clamour of my feelings. His lips were crashed onto mine, neither of us able to keep away. When he carried me to the bed, the rhythm shifted. We undressed each other carefully, slowly, as if every single detail, even the most irrelevant, was important. We knew each other so well, and yet right then, in that moment, everything was a new discovery.

  The familiarity didn’t take away from the excitement, from the fear for the unknown that was still bubbling under the desperate desire of being with him. I was shy at first but the way he looked at me made me feel desired, beautiful.

  I knew what was going to happen; I understood the mechanics of it, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I confessed that to him, whispering softly in his ear, as he kissed my neck. ‘Let me show you,’ he said, guiding me through the fusion of our bodies. I could feel how gentle he was, how he controlled every single little move. He let me lead, guiding my hands, shifting his body, and I felt as if I had no restraint, as if there was no right or wrong, but only pure love.

  Our union had already happened, a long time before, on many different levels, and this was just the final step of a long journey home. When our bodies fused together, I realised that Paul couldn’t be any closer to my soul, to my heart, than right now.

  ‘I love you,’ we whispered to each other in the dark.

  Resolutely, I pushed back the tears that were threatening to spill on this beautiful moment. I’d have plenty of time to cry, later, but not right now, not when I was still in his arms.

  The night was quiet, the only noise our own heartbeats and our sighs. I was tired and wired, at the same time, relaxed and tense as my mood kept shifting between the joy of this wonderful moment and the dreaded thought of having to say goodbye to him.

  ‘Come with me,’ Paul said out of the blue, whispering in the dark.

  ‘Where?’ I asked surprised. ‘It’s the middle of the night.’

  ‘I meant come with me to Stanford,’ he suggested tentatively.

  His words speared my heart.

  ‘Please don’t ask me that,’ I said with my voice almost broken by the contrasting emotions I felt.

  He propped himself up to look at me, a determined expression on his face, when he said, ‘You can live with me; my apartment is big enough. Defer for a year, enjoy life in California for a little while. It will be fun. We’ll come home together next summer.’ He kept talking, adding options, more details. His voice was excited, his plan thorough as if he had thought about it for a while.

  I was flattered, I was tempted, and it felt so romantic, so easy. It was just too easy to say yes, to choose him over my own plans for the future but, even if it killed me a little, I had to say ‘No’.

  ‘Why not?’ he asked, staring at me in disbelief as if my answer was the only pitfall to his plan he had no contingency for. He was disappointed – I could see that from the way his lips were set in a straight line. I had to stay strong, to not just give in to my heart that didn’t care about anything other than being with Paul.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he prodded genuinely puzzled. ‘You said you loved me, you said you wanted to be with me … so why are you saying no?’

  ‘Of course I love you, Paul. More than anything I want to be with you but I can’t just drop everything and move to the States.’

  He looked pained so I realised how hard it was going to be for both of us.

  ‘Why?’ he insisted.

  ‘Because that’s your life, Paul, not mine, not ours.’

  ‘We can make it ours,’ he said, kissing me softly.

 
‘We could, but I don’t want to.’

  I raised my hand to his lips when I saw he wanted to speak.

  ‘Let me explain,’ I pleaded. ‘I made it into Cambridge. It cost me lots of hard work. I’m proud of what I’ve managed to achieve. It’s a privilege, an opportunity, and I don’t want to waste it. I’m planning to take a gap year at some point but I want to spend it working on an excavation.’

  ‘You could “excavate” in California. I’m sure they have archaeological stuff to dig up there too,’ he suggested, sounding a little desperate and a little whiny. My blazing eyes told him that wasn’t an option either. ‘Sorry, that was stupid,’ he admitted immediately.

  ‘I spent all my life looking at the Colleges in Cambridge from the outside, dreaming of the day I would walk in the front door and be part of it. Please don’t ask me to give it up or to make an impossible choice, because that’s my dream, but so are you. It doesn’t mean I love you any less if I stay but please don’t ask me to choose one or the other, because it will tear me apart.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘That was so selfish. I just don’t think I can survive another minute without you, Fran. How can I make it through the entire year?’

  ‘We’ll find a way,’ I said, kissing him with a despair that I haven’t known before. ‘We’ll find a way.’ I pulled him down to me and kissed him again and again, pouring all my feelings for him into these last few hours together. I felt my heart breaking a little when he cradled me in his arms and declared that he wasn’t going to let me go. Ever. I watched him as he slept, thinking that maybe I should be deferring for a year now to work on unearthing our relationship, instead of Late Palaeolithic clay figurines.

  Thinking those thoughts, I drifted off slowly, inhaling Paul’s scent and feeling his heart beating slowly under my palm.

  ***

  The soft light from the window woke me. It was such a bittersweet awakening: the memories of yesterday mixed with the sadness of today.

  I turned to look for Paul. I didn’t want to miss even a second of the little time we had left together but, to my surprise, the bed was empty. I sat up, pulling the sheets over my naked body, and looked around the room. I was alone.

  ‘He’s gone,’ I told myself, my brain jumping to the only conclusion possible, and the pang of loneliness was all too real. Tears were coming and I had every intention to let them flow until a noise outside my door caused me to jump and clutch the covers tighter to my chest. I watched the handle turning.

  The door opened and Paul entered the room with a tray in his hands. I looked at him as the widest possible smile spread over my face. He smiled back and asked, ‘Breakfast?’

  ‘Yes please,’ I answered, trying to control the tremble in my voice and the urge to lock my arms around him and never let him go again. He put the tray down at the end of the bed and came to kiss me. He was happy and playful as he tickled me softly and kissed me. His good mood was surprising and contagious. We made love again, and this time, it was absolutely beautiful.

  How would I be able to do without this deep, incredible connection for months on end?

  ‘Any plans for today?’ he asked as we ate croissants and drank orange juice.

  ‘No plans,’ I answered, unable to keep the sadness out of my voice, thinking that we’d have to say goodbye to each other soon.

  ‘Would you like to take a drive with me then?’

  ‘Of course,’ I answered with little excitement knowing that our destination would be the airport.

  ‘Then get ready. We’d better go before everyone’s up,’ he ordered, collecting the plates and glasses, piling them onto the tray. ‘See you downstairs in five minutes.’

  ‘Ten? Okay, fifteen,’ he negotiated after seeing my horrified expression at his unacceptable expectations of my efficiency in getting ready.

  When he closed the door behind him, I ducked into the shower aiming to be as quick as possible now that time was precious.

  ‘Eighteen minutes,’ he said when I entered the kitchen. ‘I’m impressed.’ He kissed my forehead. ‘You ready to go?’

  ‘Yes.’ I nodded slightly. ‘Where’s the luggage?’

  ‘Already in the car. Let’s go.’

  I followed him to the garage and, as I walked towards his car, I spotted a flaw in his plan.

  ‘Who is driving it back from the airport?’ I asked as I didn’t have a driving licence yet.

  ‘We’re not going to the airport,’ was his only answer as he opened the door for me and ushered me in.

  ‘Wait!’ I said, taking a step away from the car and refusing to be rushed. ‘Wait a second, Paul. What do you mean “we’re not going to the airport”?’ I stood very still waiting for an answer.

  ‘We don’t need to go to the airport because I’m not leaving …’

  My mouth dropped open. ‘Ever?’ I asked, realising how stupid my question sounded – I couldn’t help it.

  He laughed. ‘Well, I’ll have to leave eventually … but I’m not flying out today. I’m not flying out for at least a week.’ We were both very still, facing each other in silence.

  ‘You’re not leaving?’ I asked.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘So, just to confirm, we are not going to the airport until next week?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  I smiled at his answer and asked, ‘So where are we going?’

  ‘Monaco.’

  ‘Monaco? Fine by me,’ I said, sitting in the car.

  He smiled as he closed the door and walked to the driver’s side. When we were at eye level again, he took my hand and kissed it softly. ‘Happy?’ he asked.

  ‘Ecstatic,’ I said with a grin.

  ‘Good, let’s go then.’

  He drove slowly out of the estate and hit the coastal road, then over the noise of the engine said, ‘I want to try my fortune at the Casino, so I can pay my way out of trouble because as soon as my dad finds out I’m not on a flight to California he’ll kill me.’ There was no regret in his voice just wistful disobedience.

  ‘So why are we doing this?’ I asked.

  ‘Because after last night, I couldn’t just pack my bags and leave you.’

  ‘You are risking your head for me?’ I asked, struggling to believe that I really meant this much to him.

  ‘Well, I also did it for me. I can’t be away from you right now,’ he said.

  ‘You may be a dead man walking but I certainly love you! You are the best boyfriend ever,’ I all but shrieked at Paul, planting a kiss on his cheek before I realised what I’d said.

  ‘Boyfriend, huh?’ he asked, looking at my face, which was red with embarrassment.

  ‘Yes?’ I asked for confirmation, looking at him sideways.

  ‘Yes! Of course I’m your boyfriend, you silly … You won’t get rid of me that easily, you know.’ He laughed at my sigh, then grabbed my hand as we wound our way towards the bright lights and fancy houses of the Riviera. In that moment, I felt completely on top of the world with my whole life ahead of me and the man I wanted to spend it with smiling in the seat next to mine. When we were almost there, Paul pulled over so we could look at the beautiful view of the city below us.

  He lifted my face to his and said, ‘I want to spend my whole life with you, Fran.’

  My breath hitched at his words.

  ‘We’ll start with this week,’ he whispered. ‘But this is really just the beginning.’

  Chapter Twelve

  I wake up all of a sudden, and the harsh realisation that I’m in Paul’s hospital room, and not in the South of France, is a blow. I had fallen asleep on the chair next to Paul with my forehead on his arm last night, and I’ve not moved for hours. My neck is stiff and sore as I lift my head to look at him. ‘Ouch,’ I grumble, rubbing at the sore spot.

  I dry the side of my mouth with the back of my hand and notice, on the sheet next to his hand, the place where I dribbled. ‘Oh, great.’ I’m embarrassed, unsure how to fix it. I scrub at it with my fingers, but t
hat doesn’t make it any better, so I just give up trying altogether and turn my attention to Paul.

  He is still, and absent, but, as always, I pretend otherwise and talk to him as if he can see me, and hear me, and knows that I’m here.

  ‘I’m going to clean up a little,’ I say, bending to kiss his lips softly. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  I head to the bathroom, slightly wobbling on my feet. I use my knuckles on my knotted shoulder with the illusion that my touch will actually ease the ache; in fact, it does absolutely nothing to relieve my pain.

  I sit on the toilet with my head in my hands, trying to surface from the torpor I’m in. I think of Harry and wonder if he managed to contact the hospital in Baltimore. I can’t wait to see him to hear the good news. That thought is so encouraging I rub my eyes and shake the tiredness away. When I eventually start to feel human again, I style my not-so-clean hair into a ponytail and brush my teeth, before returning to Paul.

  As soon as I take a step into the room, the smell of the flowers mixed with the other odours that have been bothering me make me gag so badly that I have to rush into the bathroom again, covering my mouth with my hand.

  When I’m finished dry heaving, I get ready to enter the room again, making sure to breathe only through my mouth.

  I open the door to find Jane changing Paul’s sheets. I flush crimson with embarrassment, worried that she’s seen my pool of saliva on them.

  ‘Good morning, Francesca,’ she says politely without breaking her rhythm. She is fast, efficient, and professional, but I like that she makes little caring gestures as she carefully moves Paul’s arms and legs about. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m good, thanks,’ I answer, clearing my burning throat. She looks at me briefly but in that quick glance, I can see what she really thinks of my answer.

  ‘I believe I’m slightly allergic to some of these flowers,’ I tell her, trying to shift the blame for my deteriorating health onto them.

  ‘Really?’ she says with a slight frown. ‘They are so beautiful; it would be a shame to throw them away.’ And with that remark she gives me the opening I was hoping for.