Page 62 of Time After Time (Golden Sands #1)

“I’m not really into sports, and neither are you,” she said, trying to smile but wincing slightly.

“Yet, you were so excited about seeing a match, and Robert took us. He even bought us these jerseys, though they didn’t have our sizes, so we looked pretty silly wearing them.

” I remembered—those jerseys had hung off us like overgrown dresses.

“Even though I didn’t care much for sports, I had a lovely day with you, and I loved having matching jerseys.

But then I spilt chocolate milkshake all over mine and?—”

“And I looked over at you, and your eyes were wide and round, just staring at me. The next thing I knew, tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you were trying so hard to stay silent, hoping that Robert wouldn’t notice.”

She nodded, a teary smile breaking into a chuckle.

“So you told Robert you were going to take me to the bathroom, and once we were inside, you shoved me into a stall and then squeezed into the one next to mine. You passed your jersey from under the stall so we could swap them.” I still had my jersey—well, hers—and though the stain had mostly faded, the outline was still visible.

The jersey ended up on her dad’s lap, and now that I looked closely, I saw him glancing between Gen, me, and his wife, who was also watching their daughter with tearful eyes.

“And I’ve kept so many more things,” Gen continued, pulling items from the box.

“Like the first flowers you gave me. You picked them up on our way home and tucked them into my hair. I wanted to keep them forever.” She reached into the box again.

“And this,” she said, holding up a small drawing.

“It’s the doodle we made on a napkin when I was in the hospital after badly twisting my ankle. ”

One by one, she pulled out items from the box, each one instantly recognisable to me because I had my own versions of those memories.

The thrill of seeing how much these shared moments meant to her was already overwhelming, but it intensified when she revealed another object.

It was a wooden rolling pin, looking small in her hand, but I immediately recognised it as the first rolling pin I ever had.

Sure, it was just a toy, but I remembered using it when I’d help my mum with baking.

When my mum eventually surprised me with a real rolling pin, I had given Gen this one, thinking she might like it too.

Now, looking back, it seemed a bit silly since she never had much interest in baking.

“I kept it because I believed one day you’d become a known baker, and I wanted to be able to show you this,” she said, her thumb nervously rubbing against her lip as she chewed at the skin around her nail. I watched, breathless, waiting for her to continue. “And also because…”

“Why, Gen?” My voice broke through the silence, making her glance over at Sylvie, who offered a comforting smile. I stepped closer, drawing her gaze back to me. “Please, Gen, tell me why.”

She mumbled, her voice barely audible, “I was embarrassed and just a child then.” She took a deep breath, her face flushing a deep shade of red that made her look almost unrecognisable.

“Because I thought,” she whispered, so softly I had to move even closer to hear.

“Because I thought it would be a special gift for our…For our future child.”

Her words hit me with a wave of emotion so powerful it took my breath away. Gen had imagined a future for us—one where we were together and even had a child.

“I sympathised with Anne because I understood her,” she said, her hands trembling as she awkwardly tried to place the objects back in the box.

“Even though our situations are different, I understood the pain of Wentworth not looking at her or longing for her the way she yearned for him.” She shook her head, her voice wavering.

“I was scared, Sebastian. I’m scared because in a week, you’ll be leaving, and the thought of missing you is almost unbearable.

I never knew love could feel this overwhelming. ”

She clutched her dress over her heart; the gesture reflecting the way I had held mine on the beach.

Her eyes were brimming with tears, and her voice was barely a whisper.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t see me as more than a friend.

I was terrified that when you left, you’d meet someone else who might be a better fit for you than I could be.

” Her breath hitched as she struggled to control her emotions.

“When you confessed your feelings, I was too stunned to respond. But I’ve felt the same way all along. ”

This time, she took a step closer. “And if you’ll have me, I want you to know that I love you. I remember the exact moment I first looked at you and knew my feelings for you were far beyond just friendship.”

Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t care that our families were watching us. In fact, I found some solace in it—that she was so caught up in her feelings that she didn’t care about the audience. That Gen had felt the madness of needing to tell me she is in love with me.

Fuck, she is in love with me, too .

“A year and four months,” I said, my hand cradling the back of her neck.

Her skin was warm and slightly damp with sweat, but I didn’t care, drawing her closer.

“I’ll be away for that long, but I promise to call, text, and visit.

And if you want, you can come see me too.

” Before I could finish, she nodded, her eyes squeezed shut, bracing herself for what might come next.

“I will meet people there.” Her eyes remained tightly closed. A flicker of fear in them when she opened them again. “But I’ve known for a long time that no one could ever compare to you.”

As I spoke, her composure cracked, her shoulders trembling and her mouth contorting as she struggled to suppress her cries.

The sound of her sobs pierced through me, the tears I’d been holding back finally spilling down my cheeks.

“I told you once, and I’ll tell you again, Geneviève St. James,” I said, my voice breaking with emotion.

“Never doubt what I would do for you, for us.”

Her sobs filled the space between us, raw and unfiltered, and I felt my own heart break with every sound. “I’ll absolutely take you because I’m in love with you.”

“I love you too.” Her face broke into a teary smile, her eyes sparkling with disbelief. She nodded slowly, as if trying to grasp that this was actually happening. To me, it felt like a dream as well, a moment so perfect it was hard to believe it was real.

“You’ve told me so.” I chuckled softly, leaning down to press my forehead against hers.

I closed my eyes, savouring the closeness and letting the moment wash over me.

“But I hope to hear those words for a long time.” I felt her nod against me, her warm breath brushing my skin. “You certainly will hear them from me.”

And with that, I pulled her closer, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that was both urgent and tender. It was a kiss filled with raw emotion—no motion, just the feeling of our mouths meeting and clinging to each other.

I couldn’t shake the memory of a dream I had at the start of summer.

In it, I was older, running a busy bakery, surrounded by success and money.

But even with all that, I was alone, working long, gruelling hours.

The stress was etched into my face, and there was a constant ache in my chest—a deep regret for never having told Geneviève how I truly felt.