Don't Forget Me (An Unforgettable Romance)

And I know that he does. And he moves against me in a way that has me wincing because it's painfully beautiful. And then the pain, it seems to fade because he's filled me up. And instead of bursting with hurt, I'm bursting with beauty, and his eyes lock with mine and our fingers lace. And there is nothing but us, us, us, it's all I see.

Even though my mom has passed, I think she would be happy. This is what she would want for me. To find this happiness. Love. Him.

I close my eyes. I let the tears fall down my cheeks. And Smith isn't scared by my outpouring of emotion. He seems to understand it. He kisses my tears, and he kisses me, and he holds me as he takes me. "I love you,” I tell him as we move as one.

"I love you too," he tells me back.

"What are we doing?" I whisper.

"We're going to figure it out," he says, and I believe him, because right now that's all we've got, one another. And we roll in that bed. That big, ridiculous bed in his lovely, cozy cabin that I guess is ours.

He's claimed me as his own. And I am going to take it because I guess in some crazy, fucked up way, he was meant to be mine.

"Do it again," I say, once he finishes and I've come hard against him. "Please," I tell him. “This time, do it faster." I smile. I'm greedy. I'm crazy. I’m his.

"Who knew you were so horny?"

"You did," I say. "Remember, I was basically coming on to you the moment I became conscious?"

He laughs. "Fuck, you're wild."

"I'm just the right kind of wild, right?"

He nods. “Right. But I'm going to get those groceries, and–”

“Hold that thought,” I say. “I'm coming with."

Smith hands me a bathrobe. He pulls on some sweats and I slap his ass. We grab the groceries and we stock that fridge and it feels deliciously divine. This kind of normal. The ice cream is mostly melted, but we think we might be able to salvage it. And we put the milk and butter in the refrigerator and the chips in the cupboard. And it feels domestic and also decadent.

And he smiles when he puts a Hershey Kiss in my mouth, and I savor the chocolate as it melts on my tongue. And I wonder how, how, how running away from a crazy stepdad could land me here. How taking a chance on my own little life could give me everything I wanted.

"Oh my God," I say.

"What?" he asks.

"I never called the day camp. They must be worried sick. I didn't come to work today."

"It's okay," he says. "You'll call them tomorrow and explain. You had amnesia. I think you have an excuse."

I laugh. “You're right. Okay. Oh my God. It's all so crazy.”

“It is," he says.

"There's so many things I want to know about you."

"Like what?" he asks.

"Oh, like your last name."

"Barkley. What else?"

"Your favorite color?"

"Red. Like the roses. They're my mom's favorites."

"My mom's favorites were roses too. Only pink." I smile.

"We should plant a rose garden," Smith says.

"Really? You'd do that?"

He runs a hand through my hair. "Why not? Sienna, for you, I'd do anything."

I look at him, this man who's given me all of these things in the matter of hours. And I laugh. I reach for another Hershey Kiss. I pop this one in his mouth and then he kisses me. It's perfectly sweet.

I won't forget any of it. I'll remember every moment of this day, forever.

Smith

Two months later…

Getting married at town hall was her idea. "You sure you don't want something fancy?" I asked her half a dozen times, but she insisted.

"No, I don't want anything big and fancy. I am ordering a white dress, so that's that. And I'm carrying a bouquet of red and pink roses, so that's special. But honestly, Smith, unless your parents are going to be really upset by this, I really don't have any family to invite or friends. I just feel like this is a better idea."

"No, my family won't care. I think they just want me to be happy. And we're going to go visit them at Christmas, so..."

She smiled, putting the matter to rest.

And now, finally, the day has arrived, our wedding day. "You look beautiful," I tell her, and she does. She's pinned her hair up in a French twist and stuck a pink rose in it. She has on the white dress she ordered. Truth is, she would look good in anything – but she looks gorgeous in this.

"You look great," she says, running her hand over my chest. "I've never seen you in a suit before."

"Yeah, I can't believe I still had this in my closet. I don't think I've worn it since my brother's wedding four years ago."