“Airport?” I say.
“I told you, you’re going home.”
“I don’t want to go.” I find myself pleading as he opens his door.
“ Don’t.” He steps from the car, looking in through the opening.
“You need help today. I can help.”
“Have a safe flight, Miss McMillian,” he says before closing the door.
Panic sears through my veins as I try desperately to open my own door. “Grady, it’s not opening.” I frantically clutch and pull the handle with despair.
“It’s child-locked as per Mr Klein’s instruction.”
“Open the fucking door, Grady.”
“I can’t.”
“Do it now.”
“Sorry,” he says, turning the steering wheel, pulling the car from the curb.
My heart throbs with such intensity the pain becomes overwhelming. In pure desperation, I yell, “I fucking remember. I fucking remembered, Grady. You must let me tell Marcus. Please let me tell him. I remember him.”
The car jolts to a dead stop. “Really?” he says. His head twists on a dime. His eyes glare into mine.
“I do. I honestly do.”
“Go!” he shouts, causing me to startle. “Abigail, go.”
I rip open the car door. I’m weightless as I speed-walk down the footpath. “Marcus,” I shout, a short distance behind him.
“Abigail.” He turns. He glares. His eyes are cold. He’s pissed. “Get back in that car. You’re going to Queensland. Go.” He turns his back on me. He walks away.
“Oceans are just a large body of rough water that separate two places from one another. True love can defy all waves, storms, and rips. Eventually, the ocean separating us will become smaller and smaller until it’s just a puddle of water beneath our feet. One day, you’ll be mine again. I just have to wait until our ocean becomes nothing more than a puddle. We are one, Abigail. I will wait for you,” I blurt out in hope.
Marcus stops dead in his tracks.
“Say that again,” he demands.
I say each word with conviction that this is a memory and something he hoped I’d remember one day.
“Did you remember that?” His voice trembles. His back is still turned to me. People stream around us on the footpath.
“Yes.”
“Those were the last words I said to you before I left.” Marcus turns. His eyes glisten with moisture. He smiles. “When?”
“Last night in my dreams. I heard you say it as plain as day.”
“Just a puddle now,” he whispers, closing the small gap between us.
My stomach rolls like a wave crashing to the shore when his fingers brush against my cheek.
“I waited. I kept my promise,” he confesses.
“I don’t know what it all means, but I know you loved me, and I know I want you to kiss me.” My breath stutters as his lips connect softly against mine. The passion, want, and lust he has for me is evident as his minty tongue swirls within my mouth. It’s a kiss that steals my breath and it’s like something I’ve only ever seen happen in the movies.
The sound of clapping surrounds us.
In my dream, Marcus kissed me like it was the last time he would ever get the chance to kiss me. Now, I remember the last words he spoke to me before I forgot him. But why did I forget?
TWENTY-SEVEN
Hope
“Take her home, Grady,” Marcus says when our bodies part.
“You’re still sending me back to the Sunshine Coast?”
“To the manor.” Relief tingles through my veins as his smile illuminates my heart.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
“Okay,” I exhale with a ting of excitement. “And then you’ll tell me everything, right?”
He doesn’t say anything. He just smiles that beautiful toothy smile of his.
Grady swiftly escorts me back to the car, and Marcus disappears from sight. Magician.
“I don’t know what you remembered, Abigail, but thank Christ …” He stops mid-sentence, and his expression relaxes.
“Will you tell me everything now, Grady?”
He grips the top of my door. “No, it’s not my story to tell. But you’ll know soon enough.” The soft sound of the door closing ends the conversation.
I smile the whole way back to the manor. Whoever Marcus was to me, I’m going to find out, and for some reason there’s no fear or panic present at this thought, only hope. He loved me, and I have this ache in my heart that tells me I loved him, all of him, too.
As I place my bag onto the kitchen table, I spy the stainless-steel oven: 9:52. I’ve no idea what time Marcus is due to return, but I expect every minute waiting will seem like a lifetime.
“Abigail, I have jobs to do. Please promise me you’ll not leave this house for anything. Not once. Do not even go outside. Can you do this?” Grady’s eyes narrow as he comes to stand a metre from me.
“Yes.”
“I’m serious. If you leave, you’ll be on the first plane out.”
“I understand. I won’t leave. Promise.” I run my index finger over my heart in the shape of a cross. “I cross my heart,” I mouth.
Grady struggles to rein in a smile. “Okay! Good. There’s food in the fridge, television in the main lounge, and a library on the other side of the kitchen.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You better be.” His dimple deepens with his smile. He turns. He leaves. I’m alone.
Rubbing my palm across the banister leading to the upper level, I make a beeline for Marcus’s room. I pause before entering. I shouldn’t snoop, but … I work up the courage to peek, and when I do my jaw hangs open. Saying he had “a room fit for a king” was not an over-dramatization on his part. This room is so large it makes mine down the hall look mediocre in comparison. The walls are covered in what seems to be gold foil. The bed is exceptionally marvellous with many delicate carvings of horses and knights along the bedhead.
“Where can one find these things?” I mutter, stalking over to an upright cupboard that almost touches the roof in height and spreads metres across the side wall. It’s the same colour as the wood in my room, with the same type of marksmanship. Purely amazing. There’s a sliding door not far from where this cupboard stands. I slide it back. I’m shocked … get out of here, this bathroom is made for the gods.
“Shared space my arse,” I tut, my feet tiptoeing across blue/grey marble flooring. “Lying Magician.” I smirk.
I hear a noise downstairs. I slide the door closed and bolt out of the room, being careful to latch the door quietly.
“Hello?” I call. “Grady, did you forget something?”
There’s no reply. I hope the noise I heard is in my head, because I’ll be fucked if I can go through what I did last night. I take the stairs with hesitation. I should stay upstairs, but if I do, and someone is in this big house, I’m way too far away from the exits and a possible escape route. I keep walking until I become overwhelmed by my fear which rattles my bones. I stop at the laptop bag, sat on the table. I retrieve it. I sit, peeking over my shoulder as I do. Is there someone else in this house? It’s all in your head. Stop it. I open the silver cover of the laptop. Calm down, you clown.