Page 132 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me

By the time I returned to London, I’d been gone for three weeks, and the tabloids had moved on to new celebrity drama.

“When you came to London, what were you hoping for? A reconciliation or…?”

He cleared his throat. “I wanted the same thing I want now. To get to know you better. I’m not saying that to hurt you,” he said quickly. “It’s just the way it is for me. I’m at a distinct disadvantage here because I don’t have the same history with you that you have with me. Technically, I do, but you know what I mean.”

Yeah, I knew what he meant.

I kept trying to put myself in his shoes and ask myself what I would do if I were him, but it was impossible to imagine. Even though I’d lost all our physical memories—his letters and notebooks and our photos—I still had easy access to all my stored memories.

A blessing and a curse.

In the background, I heard wind chimes and the snoring, snuffling sound of a sleeping dog.

I tried to picture him on a back deck or in the living room of his Montauk beach house, but I had no idea what it looked like or how he’d even furnish and decorate a house of his own.

The man I used to know so intimately was a mystery to me now.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted. “It’s just…you used to be my best friend. And now, I don’t know what we are. Not quite strangers, but not really friends, either.”

“Let’s start here, right where we are, and take it one day at a time,” he said.

I heard him moving around, a door squeaking on the hinges and slapping shut. Wood creaking under his feet.

The wind chimes grew louder. They sounded like temple bells and gongs, working in harmony. Gentle and soothing.

And then he was back.

“I never really forgot you, Cleo,” he said quietly. “Maybe that sounds like a contradiction, but I think you’re in my soul. Like my music. Like all the precious things I cherish. My strong beliefs, my artistic vision, my never-ending quest to find life’s deeper meaning…they were never completely gone. They were just temporarily lost. Like me. Like us.”

My eyes drifted shut.Temporarily lost. Like us.

No one talked like him. No one. So thoughtful and deep and soul-destroying.

And maybe that was it.

He didn’t only break my heart. He destroyed a piece of my soul too.

Yet here I was, walking right back into the fire.

“We can start at the beginning,” I found myself saying. “Two people who are just getting to know each other.” That was how it felt so it wasn’t that far-fetched.

“Sounds like a plan. How long can you stay?”

“For the rest of August. If that’s okay with you,” I added.

“How could you even doubt that? You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

What I heard was,Stay forever.

“I have to work on a piece I’ve been commissioned to do for a boutique hotel while I’m there. And you have an album to write so we’ll be busy. I think three and a half weeks will be more than enough.” Not sure why I’d felt the need to add that.

Enough time for what though? To get it right or fail trying, I guess.

We would either fall in love all over again or realize that we were better off going our separate ways.

Regardless of the outcome, our story wasn’t finished yet.

“Doesn’t sound like enough to me, but okay, we’ll do it your way,” he said with a sigh of resignation like he was doing me a big favor.