TouchStone for ever (The Story of Us Trilogy) by Sydney Jamesson Page B

then.
What was it?”
    The washroom?
    “I don’t recall …”
    He raises a
disbelieving brow. “Think carefully. It isn’t a trick question.”
    I think back. ”There
was something.”
    “Yes.”
    “I was shocked to
find out that she knew me; who I was before, you know…?”
    He nods. “Yes I know.
And how did you think she acquired that information?”
    “From you, of
course.” I lower my shoulders. “Look, Ayden, why are you asking me this? What
has Alenka got to do with us?”
    “Very little to do
with us, more to do with me, actually.”
    What!
    “Aren’t you forgetting
something?” I hold up the impressive band of platinum sitting next to my
engagement ring and flick it with my thumbnail. “We’re married, remember?”
    “I haven’t
forgotten.”
    “Well there’s a
surprise. Seems like you’ve forgotten everything else; like my name for
instance. Why can’t you bear to even utter it? Is it because it’s not Alenka?
Are you missing the fantasy fucking already? Is that it?”
    He’s shaking his head
vigorously. “No! Absolutely not!”
    “Then what?”
    He leans into me and
faces me squarely, I notice how the scratches on his forehead have disappeared,
and the sutures on his cheekbone have melted into his skin like leftover ice
cream.
    “Tell me, what do you
see?”
    I can’t help but
reach out to touch his flawless skin, absent of bruises and swelling.
    “I see a handsome man
who looks remarkably well, considering what he’s been through.”
    I wait for a jovial
‘this is true’ but I’m left wanting.
    “There’s a reason for
that and it’s not one you will be prepared for or want to hear, I’m afraid.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “I have had you in my
sights for some time, most of your life in fact. Only now have I come face to
face with you, like this.” He glances down but, sensing I’m about to speak,
puts a broad finger against his lips. “Shhh …you must try to listen. Don’t
speak until I have said what I must. Please try Frances.”
    Frances?
    “I first met you when
your grandmother passed away. It was a warm summer’s evening and you were eight
years old. You were sobbing by her bedside and she spoke to you of fairies and
Neverland. Do you remember?”
    Wide-eyed, I nod and
dissolve into the sofa.
    “She was a very sweet
lady and her passing was filled with sorrow but you grew and your sorrow
eased.” He reaches for our glasses of wine; I take hold of mine and throw back
two large mouthfuls before handing him the glass.
    “As I recall, your
mother’s passing was a tragic affair, and there was much sadness in your home,
but … she was suffering unnecessarily, and she welcomed me with open arms,
fearing only for your welfare.” He pauses for a moment but I am so mesmerized
by him that I cannot speak.
    He inhales deeply.
“Your father left you with a grieving heart that simply would not mend.” He
searches for the right words …
     
    “To die, to
sleep—
    No more, and
by a sleep to say we end
    The heartache
and the thousand natural shocks
    That flesh is
heir to—'tis a consummation
    Devoutly to be
wished. To die, to sleep.
    To sleep,
perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
    For in that
sleep of death what dreams may come
    When we have
shuffled off this mortal coil
    Must give us
pause.”
     
    He can’t be serious …
    “ You’re
forcing me to relive some of the saddest moments of my life, quoting Hamlet’s
soliloquy and you expect me to be quiet. What’s going on Ayden? You review my
life as if it’s some kind of soap opera.”
    He looks down
dejectedly. “If only it was that simple.”
    “Simple! Let me
simplify it for you. The truth is I’ve had two stalkers; one’s dead and then
there’s you . Why now? After everything we’ve been through. Tell me … why
now?”
    “You need to listen,
Frances. What I’m going to say will be hard to grasp, initially.” He takes my
right hand between his and rests it on the cushion between us. “Our