“Is something wrong?” he asks.
“I…I have a scar,” I confess. “From the accident. The second I go in there you’re…you’re going to see it.”
His eyebrows furrow. “And you think I’ll care? Is that really what you think of me?”
“No, not just you. Everybod—”
“I’m not everybody. I’m telling you that nothing is going to change the way I feel about you.”
He reaches out his hand. His eyes are staring straight into mine—unflinching—and the way he’s looking at me now makes me believe him.
Slowly, I untie the sash around my waist. Andy’s eyes remain on mine. When the robe drops to the ground, he smiles his warm Andy smile. I quickly grab his hand and he pulls me toward him. I walk up the steps and then slide into the hot tub beside him. My body goes from freezing to warm in an instant.
Still holding my hand, Andy pulls me closer to him so that we’re completely facing each other. The moonlight dances on his face.
He pulls our hands out of the water and brings the back of mine to his lips. He kisses it and then slowly starts kissing up my arm and up to my collarbone. My heart starts beating faster with his face so close to my scar, but when he kisses the spot right along my clavicle, I feel like I’m melting right here in this hot tub.
Soon he is at my lips, and when I kiss him back, I do so more passionately than I’ve ever kissed anyone. His hands move to my face and he holds me closer. I never want this kiss to end.
When eventually we pull away, he looks at me and brushes a piece of wet hair out of my face. “I love you, Ella Fitzpatrick.”
At first, I’m not sure I hear him correctly over the bubbles around us but the look on his face tells me everything I need to know. He looks at me like I’ve always wanted to be looked at. He sees all of me.
I wrap my arms around his neck.
“I love you too.”
With those words he finds my chin with his hand and lifts my mouth up to his mouth. He kisses me gently—so gently that it feels like my lips are fully absorbed into his.
Seconds turn to minutes. When we finally break for air, I don’t know how long we’ve been in here, only that our hands have become pruned from being underwater.
We decide to head inside, sprinting as fast as we can to the house, my robe in hand. Still not tired of kissing him, I lead him to the shower. In between kisses we rinse each other off in our bathing suits, my breath speeding up as Andy’s hands touch my skin.
After the shower we change back into our clothes and I make hot chocolate in the kitchen while Andy starts a fire in the living room.
Once we’re both done, we sit together on the couch, sharing a blanket. Little pops come from the crackling fire. I rest my head on Andy’s chest and he strokes my hair with his free hand. It’s so soothing that I completely forget about everything that’s happened in the past couple of weeks. All I can think about is that I meant what I said outside—I love this boy. It happened so quickly but it feels right—like everything that has happened so far was important because it led me to him.
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now, I think. It’s the last thought I have before I fall asleep, the fire crackling in the background.
Chapter 23
When I wake up in my bed, I know Andy must have carried me here the night before.
I half expect him to be lying there with me, but when my arm reaches for him there’s nothing but pillows.
I crack open my eyes. There on my nightstand is a piece of paper. It’s folded in two so that it stands like a tent. The side facing me has my name written on it with a heart. I reach out and grab the note.
Ella,
This isn’t a paper heart but a promise that I’m going to come back with the best diner to-go food you’ve ever had.
I love you,
Andy
I can’t help but smile at how thoughtful Andy is. I put the letter carefully back on the nightstand—I’ll definitely be keeping this for my secret hiding place. As I do, I realize that Andy has put my phone next to me as well, charging in the outlet by my bed. It’s another thoughtful gesture, but I immediately feel a moment of dread seeing my phone as reality sets in. All of the memories from the school dance are coming back without Andy here to distract me.
I reluctantly grab my phone and see a bunch more missed calls and texts.
I scan through to the text from my sister.
Told Mom and Dad that you’re at Katie’s. Please tell me you’re safe.
Ella…
I feel a surge of guilt and immediately text her that I’m fine. Then I add more.
In fact, I’m more than fine. SO much to tell you later. ILY.
I don’t want to read any of the texts from my friends, especially from Carmen, but I don’t have to click on her message to see what it says.
Andy isn’t who he says he is. I’m trying to protect you.
I roll my eyes. Really? Now, after everything she said to me last night, she’s going to try to say that about Andy? I’m so heated that I put my phone down. She has some nerve.
But it’s my anger at her that reminds me of why I’m really here in the first place. Not for a romantic getaway with Andy—but to find the last paper heart. If I know one thing about planning, it’s that you always save the best for last.
I begin roaming the house, searching for anything that can be opened with a key. If I’d been focused on the paper hearts yesterday, I would’ve been alarmed when I entered the house and there was nothing screaming out at me that said open me.
I really hope I didn’t read the last paper heart wrong.
I shake my head. It has to mean here.
Moving quickly from room to room, I try everything that has a keyhole with my lanyard in hand. The first room I try is my parents’, since I’m pretty convinced it has been my mom sending me these paper hearts.
There’s a lockbox in the closet where emergency cash is stored. I only know this because it’s also where my mom keeps her wedding rings when we go out on the ski slopes.
But as I try to put my key into the opening, it doesn’t fit.
I keep trying to jam it in, growing more frustrated each time, until I admit defeat. What else could have a key in this room? I check the rest of the closet and there’s nothing but snow boots and jackets. I move to the drawers on the other end of the room and sift through leggings and sweaters, to find absolutely nothing.
Where else would my mom keep something? Maybe the kitchen. She keeps her recipes in a little box next to the stove. I’ve seen it hundreds of times, but I don’t recall a lock. I make my way to see it. There’s a fake lock on the side of it that dangles like a charm. I search the rest of the cabinets and then the pantry. Nothing.
I let out a deep sigh. Maybe Carmen wasn’t even right about the clue, like she wasn’t right about anything this past year.
I go back to the living room, where I fell asleep in Andy’s arms last night. Maybe I was too distracted to see something? I scan the shelf above the fireplace that we stream with a garland around the holidays. Now there are only our family photos. I check behind each frame and find nothing but dust.
Come on, Mom, I think, because I’m in the completely wrong place…unless the last paper heart is in Ashley’s room….
I run back upstairs to Ashley’s room, which is adjacent to mine. Like at home, our rooms are complete opposites. Instead of keeping a calendar on her desk, she uses it as another space for a pile of clothes. Posters of her favorite bands cover every inch of the walls. Her bed is made, but only because my mom must have done it for her.
But then there—I see it. Square in the middle of her bed is a watercolored box with gold latches. It’s vintage looking, in the shape of an old suitcase.
No, it can’t be, I think.<
br />
I move swiftly toward the bed and bring the key to the box. My chest tightens as the key goes into the hole seamlessly. Then I turn it. With a soft click, the box opens.
There’s a paper heart on top. My last letter.
Ashley? I think in amazement. Ashley has been writing me these paper hearts?
I feel my eyes start to well up. All this time I thought she was too cool for school to write me one paper heart, let alone eleven. What made her do it?
I was about to find out.
But as soon as I remove the last paper heart, my eyes move quickly to the Polaroid photo behind it. I recognize the setting immediately. Belvedere Castle. My eyes blink rapidly at the people in the center of the photo.
It’s me, standing with Andy.
I reach into the box and flip over the photo.
Me and Drew 2/8
Drew? Who is Drew? This is Andy. My Andy. The Andy I fell in love with, who I met at the library…but no. This photo was clearly taken before then. We knew each other before the accident? I’m instantly hit with a wave of sickness. First my friends, now Andy. I don’t know who to trust or believe anymore.
Suddenly, I remember the text from Carmen. Andy isn’t who he says he is. I’m trying to protect you.
It’s all I can think about now, and my head starts spinning as I burst into tears. Soon the tears turn to sobs. There’s no point wiping them away at this point. They roll down my cheeks like waterfalls. I’m overwhelmed with emotion.
Suddenly, I hear a cheerful voice behind me.
“I’m back!”
I turn and there’s Andy—or is it Drew—holding a bag with breakfast. He instantly spots the tears. His eyes dart from me to the picture I’m holding.
He takes a step toward me as I take a step back, my face still wet with tears.
“Let me explain.”
Chapter 24
“Explain what?!” I cry. “That you knew me before the accident? Or that your name isn’t even Andy? ”
“Calm down, Ella,” he says.
“Calm down! Don’t tell me to calm down. I trusted you.”
“You still can,” he says, moving to sit on the bed. He looks at the spot next to him. “Can you please read the letter?”
“What can it possibly say that will make a difference?” I ask, still crying.
“Everything,” he says.
Reluctantly, I move to sit next to him on the bed. I look at the box in my hands instead of him. I’m breathing fast as I move the key toward the latch again. When I open it this time, I pull out the paper heart. This one is not just a cutout, it’s a long letter that I carefully unfold to read.
Dear Ella,
You must have guessed it by now, but yes, your secret admirer is me. Ashley. I’ve always been your admirer, really. You’re the kind of sister that makes everything tough because I’m constantly trying to live up to your impossible standards. Maybe that’s why sometimes I take it out on you.
But this isn’t about me—this is about you. For a long time, I’ve been hoping, like you, that you’d fully recover and get your memory back. When it wasn’t happening, I thought that I should take matters into my own hands and help guide you, like you have helped guide me throughout life as my big sister.
But I needed help. So I enlisted Drew. He told me everywhere the two of you went in the eleven weeks you forgot—the places where the two of you first fell in love. I can see it in your face now that you’re falling in love again.
We steered you to the library so you could meet him again. He started working there with Sarah after the accident. I know it may be hard to believe, but Sarah was your closest friend during the time of the accident. In a way, he said seeing Sarah helped him stay close to you, even though you had completely forgotten who he was. Sarah too. He said his name was Andy in case it threw any of our plans off. His full name is Andrew. You actually met last year when his family moved to town. But please don’t be mad at him. He was only trying to help you.
I think on some level the reason losing eleven weeks of your memory was so painful is because your heart didn’t want you to forget. It knew you had a love out there waiting for you.
The night of the accident, you left the dance early because you and Drew were sneaking off to our mountain house for a romantic night. I only knew where you were going because I had to keep up your cover story, that you were sleeping at Carmen’s. Mom and Dad weren’t aware that you weren’t speaking then. When I got the call from the hospital, I became racked with guilt over what I knew. But looking back, there’s no way I would’ve tried to stop you. You were too in love. What kind of sister would I have been to get in the middle of that? And what kind of sister would I be to let you forget about it all?
I’ll let Drew explain his side of the story. I’ve been watching and I know you might have forgotten how to follow your heart, but trust it now.
Love, Your Admirer,
Ashley
P.S. I’ve always known about your secret hiding spot.
I read the letter with my mouth open. Ashley has been trying to get me to remember Andy?
He clears his throat now. “Are you ready for my side of the story?”
I nod, still processing the letter.
“I know what you must be thinking. If we loved each other so much, why didn’t I come find you?”
As I begin nervously folding the paper back into a heart, he continues. “But the thing is, I wasn’t sure you’d even believe me. Love is something you feel. Not something you’re told. I knew you fell in love with me once, so I was confident you would again. Then Ashley approached me with the idea of the paper hearts, and…I knew it was crazy, but I would do crazier things to get you back. Do you…do you remember anything…anything at all?”
He moves his hands over to mine. I flinch as our skin touches but he keeps his hand on mine as my breathing gets louder.
Do I remember anything?
“The flower shop?” I ask, recalling my first paper heart that led me to Clover and Gold.
“That’s where we first met. You were ordering flowers for the Valentine’s Day Dance. I was in the store getting flowers for my mom. When I saw you, I thought this is a girl who knows what she wants. I bought you a rose on the spot and got your number.”
“I kept that rose,” I say. He nods.
“The bridge?” I ask next. “Was that our first date?”
His eyes light up and he nods again.
“Then ice-skating?” I ask.
He smiles. “You’re getting the idea.”
“What about the spa?”
He laughs. “That’s the only one we didn’t do together. Ashley thought it would help you remember the dance.”
“It didn’t,” I say bluntly.
He frowns. “I know. We also thought you were going to invite either her or me to the chocolate-making class. You threw us for a loop on that one.”
Watching my eyes move back toward the Polaroid of us at Belvedere Castle, he grabs it. “And this,” he adds, “is the day we first said ‘I love you.’ ”
I look at the photo in front of me, remembering the one in my secret spot. I look so happy.
“Did we say I love you before this picture was taken?”
He shakes his head. “No, it was at the Whispering Gallery.”
My heart drops. This is romantic, I tell myself. He was trying to re-create your dates.
But then why wasn’t I happy? Maybe because I don’t remember saying I love you to Andy at the Whispering Gallery. I remember saying it last night.
“It was all planned,” I say now. There’s a sadness in my voice.
“I thought you were going to be happy,” he said. He lowers his head. “All this time, I wanted you to remember, but above all I just wanted you to be happy like we w
ere last night.”
“But it’s a lie,” I say now. “I fell in love with someone pretending they’ve never known me.”
“I wasn’t pretending to be me,” he says. “That part was real. The love we share is real.”
I turn away. “How am I supposed to believe that now?”
“Because you love me. You do, right?”
I look at him. When I don’t respond right away, his eyes get wide and he bites his lip. It’s something he’s never done before in front of me—or at least not that I can remember. What else did I not remember?
“I know you’re scared, El,” he says. “But we can get through this together. If you don’t remem—”
“Of course I’m never going to remember us again,” I say now. It suddenly feels like all the hope I’ve had breaks in my mind. All this time I really thought I was going to regain my memory with these paper hearts. As my words are released, it feels like a giant weight has been lifted off me. “I might not ever remember how we first met.”
My voice cracks at that last part. Is that why I’m so upset right now? I’ve dreamed forever of how I was going to meet the love of my life, keeping mementos to remember everything. But with Andy, I can’t recall a thing. I begin sifting through the box again. There are more pictures of me and Andy. One of me in the passenger seat of his car.
“What about my friends?” I ask. “Did you know them too?”
He sighs. “You had a falling-out with them around the time we started dating. You were outgrowing them. They didn’t like you hanging out with Sarah…or me,” he admits. “Carmen didn’t know what you saw in me and hated that you broke up with Pete for me.”
Slowly, all the pieces begin sliding into place, but I don’t remember. I have all the pieces, but I don’t remember those eleven weeks. It feels like watching a movie with someone else playing me.
“I’m…I’m the girl who hurt you…,” I trail off.
“Well, yes, but it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to forget me.”
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