Loving a Man Who Forgot Me Novel Chapter 90
The thought was barely complete before the curtains were yanked to the side, causing me to jump slightly.
Abel’s face stared back at me through the glass. His eyes grew and then he quickly pulled open the French door.
“Abbi,” he said like he almost couldn’t believe I was actually standing there. “Hey,” I said lamely. “Hey,” he echoed softly.
“Umm,” maybe I should have practiced what I was going to say on the drive over, because now that I was standing there, all the words were gone. Like my brain suddenly forgot the entire English language.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, looking very unsure. “Well, you’re not yelling at me, should I take that as a good sign?”
“I liked the song,” I finally managed to spit out, and then just as a smile started to break through his expression, I blurted, “Actually, no I didn’t. I hate it.”
His face looked at if I’d just slapped him or stabbed him. “You hate it?” he choked, taking a step back. I mirrored his step, following him inside. “Yes, because it took you eight years to say those words to me.”
He blew out a shuddery breath. “I don’t suppose sorry is going to cut it.” “No, you’re going to have to do better than that,” I said, angrily folding my arms across my chest.
I don’t know where the sudden burst of anger had come from, I hadn’t expected to yell at him, but now that I was, I couldn’t stop. I suspected I’d been holding onto these words as long as he’d held onto his. “God, you made such a mess of this! You stupid, stubborn, prideful idiot!”
His expression registered each word, painfully, but I kept going. “You think one song,” one albeit epic song, “and that’s all it’s going to take, to win me back? That it just fixes everything? What makes you so sure we can even get it right this time?”
He blinked, and his brow furrowed, and then relaxed. “Wait . . . this time?” “Yes dammit! I obviously didn’t climb all the way up here just to yell at you. I could’ve rang the doorbell for that.
Or called. But instead I’m standing here” “Not wearing you ring,” he stammered, eyes darting up from my bare left hand. “It was never my ring. I never should have accepted it.
So, now tell me why it’s going to work out. Tell me you didn’t just write that song because you thought you were losing me to someone else. Tell me it was more than that.
Tell me it’s not just because you were afraid, or you didn’t want someone else to have me,” I demanded, praying with every fiber of my being Abel had a different answer than the one I saw in Jason’s eyes, because it had to be more than that.
I needed to know he wasn’t going to leave this time when it got hard. “Abbi,” he said hoarsely. “For eight years I woke up missing you and went to bed missing you. And not one single day slipped by where I didn’t wonder what would have happened if I’d stayed.
If I hadn’t gone to New York and took the record deal and started the band. I’ve wondered how different my life would be if I’d chosen to stay and fight for you.
“And every time I held you in my arms, I knew—I knew—I’d made the wrong choice. And every time I left again, it killed me a little more, and every time I wanted you to ask me to stay, but you never did.”
I swiped at angry tears. “And every time you left, I wanted you to ask me to go with you, you jerk!” “I didn’t think I could. I didn’t think you would.” “Because you don’t know anything,” I cried.
“You’re right, I didn’t. I was wrong about so much then, but I figured it out.” I scowled. “Figured what out, exactly?” “What my real mistake was. It wasn’t leaving. Choosing my music wasn’t a mistake. ”It wasn’t?” I knew that, I’d always believed in his music. It’s what he was meant to do, but he’d just said he’d always believed that was his mistake. Could he maybe make up his mind?