by K. A. Hobbs
She laughs at Seb, pushing his unruly curly hair out of his eyes and turns to look directly at me, and yet… she looks right through me. I raise my hand and wave at her, but her eyes continue to search the beach as if looking for me.
“Molly, stop messing around. I’m right here,” I tell her.
Nothing.
“Molly?” I whisper, the sudden onslaught of tears taking me by surprise. “Hey.”
I reach out my hand and place it on her shoulder. At first I don’t think she can feel it, and then she shudders and I know she does, but not in the way she would have ten minutes ago.
“She must have left,” she says to Seb with a frown. He pulls her closer to him and wraps his arm around her. “Probably keen to get back to George.” She laughs, a suggestive tone clear.
I try to take a deep breath.
I try to calm down, but everything seems to blur at the edges. My feet seem unsteady on the damp sand and my heart speeds up.
My heart understands what’s happened before my head does, but it doesn’t make the realisation any easier to bear.
I sink to the sand in a heap and wrap my arms around myself, trying to stop the shaking, trying to hold myself together.
She can’t see me.
She doesn’t need me.
I’ve lost her.
I watch them leave. I watch her scoop up a soaking wet Libby into her arms and carry her up the steps and across the car park.
I watch her walk away from me without realising what’s just happened—that she’ll never be able to see me again, that in an unguarded moment on her favourite beach she allowed herself to heal, and the final piece of her broken puzzle slotted into place.
She’s fixed.
And I’m still broken.
I don’t know how long I sit there, alone and shivering, but eventually my tears dry up and I realise I have to leave. There’s nothing keeping me here anymore. The one thing tethering me to this world has finally found peace, has finally allowed herself to heal, and now I’m freed from my charge—a charge I was so unsure I was ready for and yet now I’d do anything to be able to go back to that first day, to that first meeting and start all over again.
I’d take my time. I wouldn’t be so quick to heal her. I’d savour every moment I got to spend with her. I’d bottle her laughter and I’d soothe her pain over and over again because at least when she was hurting I got to be with her, I got to help her.
At least then I was needed.
I swipe at the tears falling down my face and growl at myself. I can’t believe how selfish I’m being. Wishing Molly wasn’t happy is an all time low for me. I know I don’t mean it. I never wanted anything more than for her to be happy, to find love and to allow herself to move on, and she’s finally done that.
I just can’t stomach the thought of never being able to talk to her again, to never be able to wind her up about being a hermit, to make her cringe about having sex on the piano. I can’t imagine not speaking to her every day or being able to have Chinese takeaway and drink a few glasses of wine all while laughing at ridiculous things that we both find funny.
I feel like I’ve lost Olivia all over again, only this time it’s more cruel because what I’ve needed since I came here has been brutally snatched away from me when I’m not ready.
George didn’t warn me it would hurt this much.
Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t he prepare me for this?
Standing, I brush the sand from my dress and take one last look at the waves crashing onto the shore before I leave the place that has offered me so much comfort—so much happiness. I walk away from the person who showed me that love comes in many different forms and that they’re all wonderful.
I walk away from the sister I never thought I’d have and prepare to find a place in a world I don’t want to be a part of anymore—a world I don’t think I fit in.
I arrive back at the house and it’s like nothing has changed.
The big staircase still welcomes everyone who steps foot inside, the fire still crackles in the huge fireplace and the distant sound of voices still floats towards me from the dining room where dinner is being served.
I take a deep breath and prepare myself—for what, I don’t know, but I have a strange feeling life won’t be the same anymore, and for a second I feel angry. I’ve already had so many changes to deal with, so many things to learn and get used to, and just when I was starting to settle, I’ve had it ripped from me.
You always knew you couldn’t stay.
I did know, but I expected to be more ready than this when it happened. I hoped I’d have some warning that Molly was ready to say goodbye. I didn’t realise it would be today.
When I woke up with hope and happiness in my heart and leapt into the shower, keen to go and see Molly, to spend the day with her, I didn’t realise it would be my last day.
I walk past the dining room with my head down, not wanting to speak to anyone other than George. I glance back and realise I’ve left a trail of sand on the marble floors. I ignore it, even knowing Franklin will likely chastise me for making a mess. I can’t make myself care about grains of sand when I feel so lost.
I make it to my quarters without bumping into anyone, thankfully, and when I push open my door, I gasp.
Moonlight streams in through the glass windows and doors, and standing in the middle of the room is George.
He turns and looks at me, giving me a small, shy smile, and holds his hand out to me.
“I’ve been waiting here for you. Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I walk towards him, the billowy fabric of the dress I’m wearing floating around me. I kick off my shoes as I get closer so I’m standing barefoot in front of him.
“It’s been a long day.” I wince as I try to stretch out the knot in my shoulders.
“So I heard,” he whispers.
I swallow deeply, and almost at once my whole body suddenly feels overheated. I suddenly feel too warm and yet cold all at the same time.
He reaches for my hand and links our fingers. He gazes down at our joined hands and then back to my eyes. Slowly, he brings his free hand up to stroke my cheek. “I’ve never seen you look so beautiful.”
“I look a mess.” I half laugh.
It’s the truth. My hair is falling out from the pins that have held it all day, and I have sand and sea water on the hem of my dress and on my calves. I’m sure my eyes are red and puffy from all the tears I’ve cried. I feel broken on the inside, and if my appearance reflects the pain I feel within then I know I look far from beautiful.
“You’re beautiful. There’s an air of elegance and grace surrounding you. You’re comfortable in your own skin today. You’re calmer.”
“I don’t feel calm. I feel lost and broken and sad, and…” I crane my neck to look up at him where he towers above me, and the minute our eyes meet, I know he knows what happened this morning and what’s just happened.
“You know,” I whisper.
“Yes,” he whispers back.
“Did you know it would be today?” I don’t need to clarify which part of today’s events I’m asking about.
He shakes his head. “No, but I knew it would be soon. We could all sense you were ready, but it had to come from you.”
“I feel…” I take a deep breath and my whole body feels like it shifts—my mood, my emotions. “I feel like I’ve left the burden of my past behind. I feel so light, so free. I’m exhausted but deliriously happy that I have my wings, but at the same time… I’ve lost Molly. I’ll never get to speak to her again. I’ll never get to explain to her what I am or why I had to leave. Everything has been stolen from me and I can’t help but hate that. I hate that I wasn’t prepared, and I really hate that it happened on the morning I stepped in front of that mirror and caught my first glimpse of my wings. I absolutely hate that the day I got them, I lost the very reason I did.”
Without me knowing, tears have silently begun to fall. I only realise when George
reaches out to capture a few on his finger. “Are these for your past? Or for the present? Are they for you? Or for Molly?”
“They’re for none and all of them. I never thought I would be happy, not really. I’m no longer the girl I was. I’m not the Imogen I was before. I’ve said goodbye to her—to the girl who walked the pavements without a care in the world. I’ll never be that girl again and finally, I feel ready to be who I am now. But a part of me longs to be the girl who walked into that Christmas market and scooped up the saddest girl in the world and put her back together. I want to be the new me, but I want to be the new me with Molly. I want the new Molly and the new Imogen to have chance at a life we both need. I need her, George. I need her so much.”
He steps closer to me and inhales deeply right before he presses his lips to mine, his hand coming up to thread through my hair, pulling me closer. I wrap my arm around his waist, holding on to him, needing him to keep me steady, needing his comfort and calm to keep me grounded like it always does.
We kiss through my tears, and with each minute that passes, more of the old me slips away. With each brush of his tongue on mine, I shed the final layers of my old self and embrace the new, and when he pulls back and looks at me, his blue eyes filled with so many emotions it’s impossible to name them all, I feel a shiver run up my spine.
“I’m so sorry you’re feeling all this on what should be the most magical day of your new life. But I don’t believe you’d ever be ready to say goodbye to her. She’s so deeply rooted inside you, for many reasons. I told you she needed you all those months ago, but I also told you you needed her. It’s okay to need her still. In a lot of ways, I’m sure she still needs you, too. But she will learn to live without you there to help her. She has Seb now, and you… you have me. If you want me.”
I take a deep breath and nod, sending more tears flowing down my cheeks. “Of course I want you.”
“I love you,” he murmurs. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll love you for eternity. There has never been anyone I have loved this way, nor will there ever be anyone else. You are my soulmate, in every sense of the word. I’m both sorry and delighted you’re here. If I could change your life’s path I would, but I’m also blessed you’re here. Blessed that you’re mine.”
He kisses me again and gazes so intently at me, I shudder. “It won’t hurt forever. I know you’ll miss her, truly I do, but you can still see her, and in many ways, she will sense you’re near. She will always love you, Imogen. You gave her her life back. You created a life for her that she wanted to fight for. It’s okay to be sad. I’d be troubled if you were not, but there’s so much out there for you to achieve, so many people for you to help. None as special as Molly perhaps, but they still need you.”
“You’ll help me?” I whisper through my tears.
“I’ll always help you. I promise you that.”
I rest my head against his steadily beating heart, breathing in and out when he does, and soon his calmness becomes mine. Soon the tears dry up and I’m left with a peace I’ve never felt before.
“I helped her, didn’t I? She’s happy because of me?”
He nods and a beautiful smile spreads across his face. “Yes, I’m so proud of you.”
I allow myself to feel, not the loss from losing her, but the joy in being able to save someone who was drowning in grief. Because of me, she found love, she found happiness, and she found peace. And although I feel so much sadness in losing her, I feel so blessed to have been able to meet her, too.
I know she’s ready. I’ve seen her with Seb, laughing and joking. If I’m honest with myself, I knew the day she admitted she loved him she was ready. I knew she was focused on the future and not lost in the past.
I know Seb will love and worship her. I know he’ll keep her on the right path when she falters, and I know together they have a whole life of love and happiness to look forward to.
And I realise now that her life and her happiness are the ultimate gifts for me.
Wiping my eyes, I raise my head and look at George. The air crackles, and the atmosphere changes entirely in mere seconds. I step forward and look up into his eyes but he steps back.
His hands reach for the top button on his shirt and he begins to undo them, one by one with sure, calm hands until they’re all open, and then he removes his shirt and drops it to the floor.
I step towards him and he lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. I wrap my arms around his bare shoulders and lean down to kiss his chest, his neck, his throat. Everything suddenly seems suffocating. I feel restricted and I need to be free of everything. I loosen my grip and drop to my feet, reaching behind me to unzip my dress. I step out of it, letting the material pool in a cloud-like pile at my feet, leaving me standing in just my white lace underwear.
Slowly, I reach for the pins holding my hair in place. I remove each one and when they’re all out, George moves forward, running his hands through my messy waves, massaging my scalp before he brings his hands to rest on the top of my head.
I close my eyes, soaking in everything he makes me feel.
He makes me stronger, more myself. He supports and encourages. He believes in me so much I have no time to doubt myself. He protects and guides me, makes me a better version of myself. The way he loves me, it changes who I am. It makes me want to do better, to love harder, to be a better person.
His love makes me believe that I am perfect just the way I am, that there’s no need to change but to accept myself.
I’m about to open my eyes and move his hands from my head when I see flickering images in my head.
Molly and Seb.
They’re sitting on the sofa in her house, Libby snuggled at their feet. They’re watching something on the television and scoffing a packet of cookies. They’re down to the last one and, ever the gentleman, Seb hands it to Molly. What surprises me most is what she does next.
Grinning at him, she breaks the cookie in half and hands one to him. He accepts it, throwing her a lovesick smile, and leans in to offer her a very crumb-filled kiss.
“She’s happy,” George tells me. ”She’s safe and she’s loved. No one wants more than that from life, Imogen. She’s got hers back.”
I try to speak but no words come, and then suddenly, his hands are gone and so is he. The world instantly seems cooler and my skin pickles from the chill, and when I open my eyes, all air and logical thought leave me.
George is standing proudly in front of me, bathed in moonlight, and behind him, ethereal and pure as the driven snow, are his wings.
He’s beautiful.
More beautiful than any earthly thing, more perfect than anything I’ve ever seen.
Almost at once, I’m shivering, overcome with emotion. Consumed by his celestial beauty, I only manage to tear my eyes from him when I hear him gasp, focusing not on me, but on something just behind.
Stepping forward and closing the distance between us, I smile through my tears and reach for his hands. He links his fingers with mine and squeezes tight.
“It’s beautiful to see you, George,” I choke. “All of you.”
He smiles and nods. “Not half as beautiful as it is to see all of you.”
He releases my hand and walks in a circle until he’s directly behind me then I feel his hands on my wings.
The wings I finally earned today.
He turns me so I’m standing facing my reflection in the glass and comes to stand next to me, reaching for my hand again and linking our fingers.
“This is me,” he says softly.
“And this is me,” I tell him.
“I’m so glad it’s you who gets to see them,” he croaks, his voice suddenly filled with emotion. “I’m so glad it will always be you.
I squeeze his hand, locking eyes with him in the glass, unable to tear them away from him. “I love you so much.”
“And I love you,” he whispers, squeezing my hand right back.
Number not in service.
I fr
own at my mobile, checking and rechecking the number over and over, confusion itching at my skin. It’s been two days since our perfect moments on the beach, and I still haven’t heard from Imogen. Not a peep.
At the time, I didn’t think anything of her random disappearance. She’s marched to the beat of her own drum since the moment I met her. I mean, who else approaches random strangers having mental breakdowns in the middle of Christmas markets? She’s one of a kind, so her slinking off after our precious moment on the sand didn’t seem all that odd to me at the time. But she’s never ever ignored my calls before, or been anywhere that her phone was out of service. But now, every text I try to send fails to deliver, and every call gives me the same result.
Number not in service.
“Ugh, yes it is!” I growl, slamming my phone down on the counter with a little more force than strictly necessary, not even caring whether the screen survives.
“Alright in here?” a gruff voice questions, followed by the sight of Seb walking in with his hair in disarray and his pyjama pants hanging off his hips in a way that almost has me forgetting my frustration.
Almost.
“Did I wake you?” I ask sheepishly, glancing at the phone on the counter and thinking of the loud slap it made as it landed.
“No, my alarm did. I have to get to the hospital soon.” He shuffles lazily towards the coffee pot, straggling his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame it. “Still no word from Imogen?”
“No, nothing.” I pout, feeling like a spoilt child, but something about her just leaving doesn’t quite sit right. She wouldn’t just walk off without texting to explain. Usually in far too much detail, involving positions, sizes and other unnecessary details. “I can’t understand it.”
With two cups of coffee in his hands, he moves to my side, sliding one in front of me and giving me my customary good morning kiss to the temple then the lips. “She’ll get in touch. You know she will. She might be flighty but she loves you. She’ll probably turn up on your doorstep soon with wine and cookies, demanding a girly evening and kicking me out so she can gossip about me with you.”