Читать книгу If Only... - Tanya Wright - Страница 11

FOUR

She had dreamed of Drew again, but just as he would lean in to kiss her, the dream would suddenly change.

“Josh.” Even saying his name aloud in the quietness of her room ignited something unfamiliar within her. She had joked about the kiss with him the day before, even going so far to blame it on him. She’d wanted to give the situation some levity, but it was proving to be far more serious than she thought. And Josh was taking up a good portion of her mind.

The two men had taken over her every waking and sleeping thought. She would wake up, perspiration beading on her brow as she shook the images of last night’s dream from her mind.

She was holding firm to the notion that they were connected. If she cleansed herself of one problem, the other would fix itself.

Every year for the last ten years she had allowed herself a short time of grieving. This year was not shaping up to be quite what she had anticipated. This had to stop. She had to get control of this. No more moping. No more sadness. She would rid herself of her past once and for all.

She got out of bed and opened her closet door. Reaching up, she pulled down a bulky, heavy box. It was a box she rarely opened anymore, but had been in her possession for the last ten years. As she lifted the lid, the smell of old things drifted through the air as easily as the sense of nostalgia enveloped her.

Memories. Her memories.

Even as she had every intention of going through the box to put an end to this madness, she found herself desperate to cling to the memories. She had loved him deeply. Something like that could not just be tossed aside.

As she lifted an old photograph, she held it to her chest, wanting to grasp any part of Drew that she could. She couldn’t throw any of this away. Not yet.

Time had seemed to wash out the memories, causing them to fade ever so slightly, but opening this box erased all the damage time had done.

She had forgotten so many things about him. Even the pain of losing him had dimmed. She could no longer remember his voice or the expressions of his face. But her fragmented dreams had brought it all back.

Lovingly, she lifted out his sweatshirt. The deep red color brought a different kind of sadness. She ran her fingers across the white letters stitched on the front—Harvard.

He’d had such dreams, such potential. He might not have ever been accepted into Harvard, but she did not doubt that he would have been successful wherever he ended up.

Putting the sweatshirt aside, she lifted out a stack of photos. Next, she pulled out a stack of letters. Long before text messages and email, handwritten notes and letters had existed, and they were sacred to her. She missed getting them.

Her eyes scanned each one, taking in the way he drew a heart in one fluid stroke of his pen. She had never seen anyone else do it that way. It made him unique.

Josh suddenly came to mind.

Now the man of her past and the man of her present dueled for a place in her heart. But the harsh reality of it was that she would lose this battle no matter what. She would never be able to have either one.

Micah took her time going through the box, reading each letter, staring at each picture, memorizing every detail. Then she put her favorite picture and her favorite letter aside. Everything else went back in the box and the lid back on top.

It was time. She had had her cry, and now it was time to move forward.

She carried the heavy box out to the living room and set it near the door. It was time for it to go. That was the healthy thing to do.

Sabina entered the apartment with her arms full of groceries and almost tripped over the box. She had obviously gone to the market and purchased a load of fresh fruit and vegetables. What really stuck out to Micah, though, were the flashy sequined top, black leather leggings and stilettos Sabina wore.

Sabina’s eyes filled with worry as she took in Micah’s tearstained cheeks and puffy red eyes, but thankfully she said nothing. Micah didn’t want to talk about it just yet.

“You wore that to the market?”

“I ran out of clean clothes.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No. What’s wrong with this?” Sabina looked down at her outfit, trying to figure out what was wrong with it and seemingly forgetting she was still holding several bags of food.

“Here, let me help.” Micah relieved her of some of the bags. “And let me inform you what is wrong with your outfit. No one wears sequins to the market, much less Marc Jacobs stilettos.”