Warning, this is second chapter I've posted today, so if you haven't read the first one I've posted earlier today, you might want too. Or not.
A strong gust blew the door closed on Bellamy's truck. What started out as a mild autumn day had turned into blustering winds with a twenty-degree drop in temperature. Thank God it held off until after work, but only in Alabama would you need your air conditioning and heater in the same day.
Bellamy kept a firm grip on the pizza box as he headed inside with three things on his mind. Eat. Hot shower. Early bedtime. But when he opened the door, his mind detoured down a different road. Soft music played. Candles flickered in the dim light. And temptation stood before him dressed in ragged jeans and an off-the-shoulder pale pink sweater trimmed with fringe. Holy fuck.
He barely had time to set the box on the counter before she rushed forward, pulled him into a hug, and rested her head against his chest. "I'm glad you're home." Mechanically, his arms wound around her, feeling her softness aligned with him, her hair tickling his nose. She smelled like his shampoo, but it suited her. He preferred it on her.
She backed away and gazed up at him, then ran her palm down his cheek. "You look exhausted. Why don't you sit down and I'll bring you a beer."
He didn't argue the surrealistic feeling of feeling like he'd just stepped in a 1950s comedy where he was The Man and she was the pinup housewife slash Genie. Instead, he wordlessly headed that direction and collapsed onto a chair. Within a minute, she was back with a drink in hand and a plate of pizza balanced on her forearm. She set both on the floor, then knelt to one side and placed her fingers on his boot laces.
"Hey, I can do that," he scowled. She was the one who'd just got home from the hospital, he should be waiting on her, not the other way around. "Get some pizza and join me."
She ignored him. "Raven and I had a big lunch, so I'm not really hungry. Let me take your boots off first. It'll make you feel better."
He tried to remove his foot from her grasp, to little avail. Even with one hand, she was strong. He had a feeling even before the accident, no one would sway Clarke Griffin from anything she set her mind to. "No doubt, but I better warn you, my feet aren't going to smell like roses."
She giggled and damn how he loved the sound. Crazy how something so simple could lift his spirits, but it did—every time.
"That's okay."
He cleared his throat. "I think your entire family will be here this weekend, so you should plan to spend time with them. Maybe that will be the catalyst to recover your memories."
She slipped the first boot from his foot and started on the other. "A few hours ago, Marcus basically said the same thing. You two aren't ganging up on me, are you?"
"You talked to him? How?" Bellamy shook his head. "Oh, you used Raven's phone."
"Nope. He's in town. Plans to stay the rest of the week." She sighed, "And I know you don't want to hear this, but it's probably as much about seeing your mom as it is me."
Bellamy frowned. Dammit. He didn't want his mother getting involved with Marcus Kane for a lot of reasons. Chance of getting hurt. Long distant relationship. Falling in love and moving away. He shuddered at the last thought. "I don't get it. He's a nice looking guy. A lawyer. Just the kind of combination women want. Why doesn't he already have a girlfriend?"
Clarke snorted and wiggled the boot back and forth, then set it next to the other one, and peeled off both of his socks. "You ask as if I know. I don't even have a clue as to why I'm dating you, much less anything about his love life, or anyone else's."
Washing down another bite, and treading on dangerous ground, Bellamy dropped the subject before she bombarded him with questions he might not be able to truthfully answer. "How was your visit with Raven?"
Clarke stood and twirled. "We went shopping. I bought a lot of stuff." She straightened the sweater. "Do you like this?"
"You look beautiful." He didn't mean to say it aloud, but the words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them.
She widened her eyes. "Do you really think I'm beautiful?"
He swallowed and smiled shyly. This was dangerous territory. "From the first moment I saw you."
Tears flooded down her cheeks, and she wiped at them with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. Since I can't remember anything, that's the first time anyone has said that to me. I don't consider myself beautiful. Cute maybe and most of the time that's pushing it."
Now he snorted, shaking off the alarm of her sudden tears - glad she wasn't having an existential crisis. That, she was owed. It was a preposterous thought, that anyone, herself included, would not find Clarke the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen. "Well, you're cute, too," he grumbled.
She scooted a chair next to his, sat, leaned in, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "When is your next day off?"
"Day after tomorrow. Why?"
"I need to buy a car. Marcus arranged for me to buy one. So, I thought you and I could go car shopping. I also need a laptop."
"Any idea what model you want to buy?"
"No. Nothing fancy. It can even be used."
"We'll talk about it later. Right now, I'm going to take a quick shower and go to bed."
Bellamy placed his hands flat against the tile, hung his head and let hot spray rinse the lather away. He didn't want to think anymore. Not about cars, or his mother and Marcus, or work tomorrow, or especially how gorgeous Clarke looked kneeling in front of him.
She belonged to another man. Granted, one Bellamy didn't approve of, and who didn't deserve her, but still, her choice. And he had no right to question that. Needed to keep pounding that fact into his brain. Just as he'd never cheat on a woman, he'd never move in on another person's territory.
Turning off the water, he slid the shower curtain to one side and flinched when he found Clarke waiting. Waiting there. Silently. In the bathroom. With him. Like a serial killer.
Her eyes roamed over him from top to bottom, then she grinned wolfishly and offered a towel. "Want me to dry your back?"
He shook his head, took the towel, and wrapped it around his waist, trying to stave off the alarmed pounding of his heart - at Clarke finding him naked, or being surprised in a slippery tub, he didn't know. "Didn't expect an audience."
She stepped closer, leaned in, and licked a drop of water from his nipple.
Sweet Jesus. Apparently, his cock wasn't as tired at the rest of him, because it jumped to attention. "What are you doing?"
One look into her eyes and he saw the wildness, the lust, the hunger that lurked brazenly above the surface. "I've wanted to see you naked for days. I figured this was my best chance."
Hell, he didn't know what to say to that—thank you? He wasn't sure about the rules of etiquette concerning seduction. She raked her hand down his chest, skimming the surface of his skin with her fingertips, nails brushing nipples, then lower. He caught it before she made it all the way to Captain Happy. "You can't do that."
Those damn eyes of hers—full of promise, turned him inside out. She backed away and smirked, her eyes flashing quicksilver. "I really didn't plan to do it alone. I was kind of hoping you'd want to join in."
Stepping out of the tub, he angled around her. If she touched him, that'd be the end of it. "Doctor's orders. Remember?" His voice sounded husky even to his own ears. "No messing around for two weeks."
She sat on the edge of the tub with a thud. "Oh, come on. I promise I'll let you do all the work, so I don't raise my blood pressure." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
He dipped his head and pinned her with his gaze. "Now that wouldn't be much fun, would it? I like a team effort in that particular sport. Besides, I'm too tired to give my best performance." Jesus. Clarke was going to be the end of him. He'd happily do all the work, worship at the shrine of Clarke Griffin, but… she was entirely off limits to him.
Crossing her arms, she huffed out a breath. "Fine. You win." Then she leaned over the tub and turned the spigot. "I need to take a bath, and you'll have to help me get out of these clothes."
Fuck. Just when he thought he'd won the round, she came back with a new play. "Oh, okay." He faced her, and she lifted her cast as best she could for him to strip the sweater over her head. She undid the button on her pants and slid down the zipper. Hooking a finger in the waistband of her panties, she wiggled one way and then the other to glide them and her jeans over her hips.
Bellamy joined in and got them to her ankles, kneeling in the process. He closed his eyes to keep from looking at her. Talk about a case of blue balls, if this kept up, he'd have a permanent condition.
She spun around, putting her back to him. "Unhook my bra, please."
His mouth went dry. He rubbed his palm over his face and prayed for strength. As soon as the bra was free, she twirled to face him, putting his eyes level with her breasts.
His gasp didn't go unnoticed, because she ran her fingers through his hair, and brought his face to rest against her creamy cleavage. God help him. She was killing him, and if he should die right now, he'd go straight to hell for what he was thinking of doing to her.
There was only so much torture he could take. He pressed his lips to her soft skin and breathed her in. God, she smelled good. Like sin waiting to happen. Devil's candy. And Bellamy craved it.
He ran his hands up her spine, then down to her ass, cupped both cheeks and squeezed. He could have her. Right here. Right now. Against the wall. On the floor. All he had to do was surrender to the lust boiling his blood. Give her what she wanted. Bury deep inside her, and make her scream his name.
The thought brought him to his senses. Even if it was his name she shouted, it wasn't him she wanted. His head spun as he jerked away and stood.
She moaned at the separation. "Why did you stop? I didn't want you to."
Bleary eyed, he blinked to gain focus. "We can't do this. I can't. Turn your water off before the tub overflows." He reached for the door and left before she could manage a response.
Clarke sank low in the tub, hanging her casted arm over the side. She'd really needed Bellamy to help put a plastic bag on it, but his hasty retreat left her confused and naked. Literally. She smiled. That sounded like a reality show. In her current state, she could star in that one for sure. Or an alternate title. Aroused and Alone. Lost and Lustful. Horny and Homeless.
She couldn't help but laugh, and Lord knew she needed to because right now, there wasn't anything funny about her life. Wounds to heal. Strangers for family. A brain that wouldn't work, and a man she loved who kept pushing her away.
Squeezing the water from her washcloth, she bathed her face, then set to work with the rest of her body. Doing everything one-handed proved challenging, but she needed to do as much for herself as possible and not depend on Bellamy.
Raven had made clear his moral compass. Clarke liked that—to a degree. Probably one of the reasons she'd fallen in love him because even if she didn't remember her past, strong principles were important. He'd proved that by not giving in to her advances. Clearly, he had her best interests at heart and didn't want to do anything to delay her recovery. She needed to remind herself of that and not take his behavior as rejection.
When she'd seen him naked, the strangest feeling had swept over her. As ripped as he was, his defined abs, roped veins, and hard muscles should have sparked something. Yet, it was like seeing him for the first time. Man, if she could erase such a fine specimen of manhood, especially one she'd been intimate with, then her brain really was in trouble.
She climbed out of the water, dried off, and then spent the next ten minutes struggling to get into her pajamas. By leaning against the wall and balancing on her left foot, she threaded one leg at a time through her pants. After that, she made several attempts with the top, finding the best method was to put her injured arm through first, followed by her head, then contort her body into a crazy position to get the other arm through the remaining sleeve.
By the time she finished, her heart pounded, sweat glistened above her lip, and she shook all over. Talk about elevated blood pressure, hers had probably skyrocketed from the effort. She rested her arms on her thighs and leaned forward, taking several deep breaths. Tears waited, but she willed them away. Shame washed over her. She had no reason for a pity party. So many people had permanent injuries. Hers was only temporary. So what if it took longer to get dressed? A small price to pay for her good fortune. She sniffed, dabbed at her watery eyes, and headed to bed.
She'd apologize to Bellamy for trying to seduce him and promise not to repeat it. He was right. In two weeks, she'd be back to normal, physically, so no need to rush things.
She slipped in next to him, rested her head on his shoulder and laid her arm across his chest.
He stirred but said nothing.
She traced circles with her pointer finger across his chest. "I'm sorry about before. I won't pressure you to have sex anymore. I'll still need help dressing, but I'll behave. It's unfair to tempt you knowing we have doctor's rules to follow. Okay?"
Again, no response.
She pushed up on her elbow and gazed down at him. Even in the dark, she could tell how soundly he slept. So much for her apology. It would have to wait until morning. She flopped onto her back and let the rhythm of his breathing lull her to sleep.
Crazy dreams had Clarke thrashing in bed. A cowboy spitting tobacco. Papers flying from a briefcase. A couple having sex in a closet. All the while, she hovered above each scene, eating a candy bar. Nothing made sense. Split second images and faceless characters.
If she concentrated, maybe she could slow the motion and bring things into focus. She swallowed the last bite of chocolate, then floated—to a church. Stars were out, so it must be evening. Inside, candelabras were in place, but not lit. A wedding. Ah, the closet couple. Clarke giggled. The betrothed were rehearsing the honeymoon! Her head pounded. No. That didn't seem right. She drifted closer and directed her attention to the woman, but couldn't make out anything but curly brown hair adorned with braids.
Next, she moved to the cowboy. He tipped his hat. Was she at a rodeo? She pulled a long breath in through her nose. Nope. Not a single whiff of manure. Neon reflected off plate glass windows in every direction. A bar? No. A convenience store parking lot. Probably where she got the candy.
Dark clouds gathered overhead, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Clarke reached for an umbrella, and one magically appeared. But when she opened it, the papers from the briefcase hung from the spokes. Wind whipped them loose, but as quickly as one flew away, another replaced it. She tried to catch a piece and got a papercut for her attempt. Pain seared up her arm and she startled awake, jerking upright as the faces of the closet couple came in vivid color.
A gasp caught in her throat. Clarke's fiancé and maid of honor! She buried her head in her pillow and sobbed.
Bellamy came to life, hastily groping the nightstand for glasses. "What's wrong?"
Great. When she had wanted to talk, he'd slept through it, but her quiet sobs were enough to wake him? With all the women in his family, maybe he was more in tune with female emotions. If so, this was all he needed. One more weepy woman to deal with.
"Nothing. I had a dream." She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks. "About my past. I remember something."
He rubbed her back soothingly, pressed his lips to her hair. "Something bad?"
His expression and the concern in his voice made her want to snuggle close and let him wrap his arms around her because ever since she regained consciousness, his embrace had been her safe haven. The one place she didn't have to worry about what she could and couldn't recall. She marveled at his patience. In a man his age, it was unnatural, but he didn't push. Didn't try to get her to remember.
"I was engaged. She cheated. With a mutual friend of ours. The night before our wedding." Clarke worked hard to keep the quiver from her voice but didn't succeed.
Bellamy pulled her against his chest. "She didn't deserve you."
She leaned away and gazed up at him. "You know her?"
"Don't have to. Anyone who'll do what she did isn't worth your tears."
Clarke wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve to the best of her ability. "You're right. I'm not even crying over her. I mean, where Lexa's concerned, I feel nothing. But the heartbreak feels—like it just happened. Is that crazy?"
She could feel his eyes on her.
"Since the memory is new, makes sense disappointment is too."
She rested her head on his shoulder. "I couldn't see it at the time, but she did me a favor. It led me to you."
He swallowed, and his voice cracked, just barely. "Is that how you see me?"
"Yes."
"Well, I'm not perfect. Far from it, and it's a mistake for you to think that."
"Why? Do you have some dark secret I don't remember yet?"
"No, but I'm just a regular guy with plenty of flaws. Just ask my sister."
Clarke pressed her lips to his neck and inhaled. He even smelled perfect. She licked the spot, and he flinched. God, he tasted perfect, too. "I don't care about your faults. Leave the toilet seat up? Fine. Pile your dirty clothes on the floor? No problem. Dirty dishes in the sink?"
He pressed the pad of his thumb against her lips. "I'm not talking about those things. More about my personality. Just about everyone I know tells me I feel too much. Think too much. Even care too much. I try to fix everything for everybody, and when I can't, it bothers me."
She knew he was a people pleaser, and always tried to take care of everyone from her experience and how others described him. She pursed her lips, kissing the top of his finger against her mouth. "So, you're saying you're moody?" She raised her eyebrows playfully.
He chuckled. "Among other things."
She nestled into his warmth. "Well, apparently nothing you do is enough to drive me crazy, because with all the chaos inside my head, there's only one thing I've been sure of from the beginning, and that's how much I love you."
Silence reigned supreme. When he finally spoke up, his voice was soft, unsure. "Yeah, but you can't remember the past, so how can you be so sure about that?"
She scooted away, sat crossed legged, and looked down at him. Raven had already answered Clarke's next question, but no harm in getting confirmation. Besides, his sister probably didn't know everything about him. "So, what if you're moody, so am I. There's only one thing I can't forgive or get past, and that's cheating. And you haven't done that, have you?"
"No. Never." The answer stopped him. The truth within a lie. Wonder how she'd feel about that? He wouldn't have long to wait with her memory returning. This latest revelation moved the period from junior high best friend to lying ex, and according to Marcus, that happened three years ago. If the pattern held, she'd remember her real boyfriend soon.
Her voice shook Bellamy from his thoughts.
"You're not mad that I asked, are you?"
"Why would I be?"
She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. "Because I should trust you—and I do, but…"
He took her hand in his. "I understand. If you could recall your past, you would have known the answer. I get it." Yeah, he got it all right. In a short time, she'd hate him more than she ever thought she loved him. But that would be okay, because she'd never really love him, and he would learn to live with it.
He shifted and pulled up the cover. "Enough talk. I have to get up early." She lay back again but didn't move next to him. "Just one more thing. Since my… since Marcus… is staying a few days, I'll get him to go car shopping with me. No need for you to give up your day off to haul me from place to place."
An odd feeling passed over Bellamy. He almost felt—rejected. Hell, what was wrong with him? One minute he wanted her to leave, and the next, got offended she chose to be with her family. Damn, he was losing it. "Good idea, since he wants more time with you and by doing so, it might speed up your recovery."
She didn't say anything else, just put her back to him, and snuggled deeper into the mattress. Earlier, he'd pretended to be asleep when she'd offered her apology, so he figured this was the first step in keeping her promise of backing off on the touchy feeling stuff. Thank God. Being close to her and remaining a gentleman was harder than he thought it'd be. If he dissected her looks, there really wasn't anything special about her. Shoulder length blond hair. Blue eyes—who the hell was he kidding? Everything about her was special, all wrapped up in a tidy little package. That was the damn problem.
And he'd compounded it by giving in to a moment of desire. The memory of how her skin felt against his lips, and the sight of her full, rounded breasts, had his heart doing double time.
He'd tried like hell to find something about her he didn't like and so far, no luck. Staring at thirteen more days—helping her undress—seeing her naked—lying next to her—would be torture, but he'd survive. He had no choice.
He pushed the thoughts from his mind and concentrated on sleep. Tomorrow's forecast called for cloudy, cold, and windy. Working at the top of a pole in those conditions, the last thing he needed was sleep deprivation—and a woman on his mind. Especially one he wanted and couldn't have.
The next morning, Clarke didn't move when Bellamy slipped out of bed, which was a good thing. The less conversation with her, the better. So as not to disturb her, after brushing his teeth, he went to the front of the house to dress. No need to make coffee, he could just hit the drive thru.
He paused long enough to jot a note and drop some fish flakes into Alpheus' bowl, before heading out the door. A sharp cut of frigid air met him when he stepped outside. The weatherman had not missed today's prediction, but Bellamy had a feeling every time he replayed the bathroom scene from last night, he'd break out in a sweat.
Clarke opened her eyes and listened. No sounds from the kitchen. No light on in the bathroom. Bellamy must have left already. Just as well. With only one working hand, fixing his breakfast was out of the question. More like he'd have to cook for her, and he'd already done so much, she didn't want to take more advantage of his generosity.
She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and texted Marcus. Within a few seconds, he answered, and just as Bellamy had predicted, he welcomed the prospect of car shopping.
With the problem of getting dressed looming over her, she scooted out of bed. She'd be able to manage everything—but a bra. Since she had no choice, guessed she'd go without one. At least the cool weather provided the opportunity to wear a jacket.
Once she'd put herself together, she ambled into the living room and studied the place. Shopping the day before, then visiting with her godfather, she'd not really given much attention to how bare the furnishings were. Hardly any furniture. No artwork. Not a single tchotchke, unless she counted the wooden bowl Bellamy kept his change in, the piece of petrified wood on the mantle, the three pillar candles she'd scrounged, and a handmade framed photograph of a dark haired, gap toothed little girl she guessed to be Octavia, arms wrapped around taller, freckled boy. Odd she didn't remember any of this. Surely she'd been to his house before now.
A note on the counter caught her eye. Here's my cell number. Please text me yours. Dinner at Mom's tonight at 7:00. I fed Alpheus.
She didn't get Bellamy. One minute he buried his face between her breasts, the next, didn't even bother to sign his note. No Love, Bellamy. No, see you later. No nothing. But yet, he offered her comfort at any sign of sadness. Maybe this was an example of what he'd said last night. Moodiness. Or, maybe he was just a man of few words. Whatever the reason, she wouldn't question it. Not until her brain got back in order because she had nowhere else to go. If she pushed him too hard, he might ask her to leave, and staying here with a few unanswered issues was much easier than coping with a world full of strangers.
She entered Bellamy's number into her contacts, then took a minute to text hers. Unlike him, she added something more than just the requested information. Have a nice day. And a smiley face emoji. She might have memory problems, but he definitely had barrier difficulties. He'd put a wall—really four, and boxed his emotions inside. Every now and then, like last night in the bathroom, kneeling before her naked body, he let his guard down, if only for a moment. But quickly retreated. That was okay. She had plenty of time to tear the barricade down, and she would, even if it was one brick at a time.
Tonight, would be an excellent opportunity to start the demolition. Meeting his mother—again, because Clarke was sure they'd met before. However, she needed to heed Dr Nyko's warning. Don't interrogate people trying to force memory to return. Such actions would only cause more stress. Just let things happen naturally. She'd broken that rule yesterday trying to pump information from Raven, and the doctor was right. Since then, Clarke had been overthinking everything. Even the lack of a signature on a silly note.
The sound of a car door had her scurrying to the window. She turned and grabbed a scarf and wound it around her neck letting the ends drape over her breasts. That way, when she opened the door to a cold blast of air, it wouldn't matter if the girls snapped to attention. Certainly wouldn't be comfortable about Marcus seeing her with a full nipple alert.
She didn't wait for his knock, just threw open the door, and as she expected, a blast of frigid air hit her dead center.
"Come in."
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yes, sir." She lifted her jacket from the chair and pushed it toward him. "Would you mind helping me get this on?"
"Not at all."
He held it out, and she worked at getting the cast through the sleeve, then easily slipped in her other arm. "Thank you."
He placed his hand on her shoulder. "I can't tell you how happy I was when you texted. I started to offer yesterday to help you look, but then you mentioned going with Bellamy, and I didn't want to interfere."
She turned to face him. "I wasn't thinking clearly. I shouldn't depend on him for everything."
Marcus pulled his brows together. "Did he say he didn't want to take you?"
She shook her head. "Oh, no. He'd never do that. With you here, it's more logical for us to go together. Besides, you said you wanted to spend time with me, so this makes sense."
"Aurora—Bellamy's mom, is doing her part. She invited us to dinner tonight."
"I know. Bellamy left a note about it."
Marcus put his hand on the doorknob. "Okay, are you ready? Have you thought about what model you want?"
She should say something nice. Like how much she appreciated him being here and his willingness to pay for a car. But each time she thought of doing that, a knot formed in her throat and choked the words. He really was a nice man. His expression spoke volumes as to how much he cared. And there was fear there, too, and Clarke could relate to that. Just as she was afraid she'd never retrieve her memories, she figured he was terrified he'd never regain the version of Clarke he knew. The least she could do was offer encouragement along that line. She slung her purse strap over her shoulder. "No. I guess I'll know when I see it. Oh, and I remembered something else from my past."
He widened his eyes. "You did? What?"
"We'll talk about it on the way."
Outside, wind whipped the collar of her jacket up. She yanked it tighter and dipped her chin deeper into her scarf.
He opened the passenger door and let Clarke in, then snapped her seat belt into place like she was a child. She'd bet he'd been the kind of guy who'd helped with his friends' kids. Probably even changed diapers. She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Somehow, the thought of him doing that struck her as funny.
He slid in behind the wheel but didn't start the car, clearly anxious to hear what she had to say. "So—about what you remembered…"
She took a deep breath. "What was my fiancée's name?"
"Lexa."
She nodded at the confirmation. "And my maid of honor?"
He reached over and took her hand. "Oh, sweetie. I'm sorry. I was hoping it was a happy memory."
God, Clarke wanted to kick herself. Why was it when she talked about this, tears came? She didn't give a crap about Lexa. Didn't even remember their past. But yet, the waterworks turned on full force when she did. She shook her head. "I don't know why I'm crying. I don't remember them. How can that be? I mean—why do I have a physical reaction without being connected to an emotional one?"
He sandwiched her hand between his big paws. "I can't answer that. Hell, I don't have an answer for anything concerning your condition. I wish I did, then maybe I could fix it."
She whispered a laugh. "You sound like Bellamy." And then it hit her. That's why she'd fallen in love with him. He was good, like Marcus. The same soft tone. Caring expression. Comforting touch. And they both wanted to fix everything. Even with no past to draw on, it all made perfect sense.
Pulling her hand free, she dug a tissue from her purse, then wiped at her tears. "He's like you, you know. Bellamy. You're both sweet, loving, and think of others before yourself. I just realized that." She took a deep breath. "So, what was my best friend's name? And what happened to them?"
"Costia. And the fire between them burned out pretty quickly. They're engaged. Planning a summer wedding. Regrets what she did."
Clarke cut her eyes over at him. "You think I should forgive her?"
He hesitated, staring out the dash, eyes on the road. "Forgive her? Yes. Forget? No. Just because you forgive someone doesn't mean you have to accept them back into your life."
She smiled. "You sound like a lawyer."
He chuckled. "Yeah, well, can't help that. So, about the car. I thought we'd check out the Chevy place first."
During the next few hours, Clarke discovered another similarity between Bellamy and Marcus. They both had plenty of patience. Unable to make a decision at the first dealership, without complaint, he'd hauled her to three more. Finally, she narrowed her search to either a Malibu or a Honda Civic. Since they shared most of the same features, it came down to body style and color. Three back and forth trips later, she chose the smokey gray Chevy. The deciding factor might have had something to do with the salesman pointing out how the vehicle enhanced the color of her eyes. She wasn't sure about that, but talk of horsepower, cylinders, engine size, and throttle response made her dizzy. Miles per gallon, she understood, and since she'd be traveling from Atlanta to Arkadia, and vice versa, 41 highway mpg sounded good. And then there was the eye thing. The sales guy had said it with such conviction, she couldn't help but be convinced.
By the time she got back home, it was almost five. Yesterday, because of all the walking she'd done during her shopping trip with Raven, Clarke had not felt guilty about skipping her daily exercise assignment, but today, she'd done little hoofing it. More sitting. In the car. At sales desk. In the restaurant, which had turned out to be a pleasant experience.
Her and Marcus had fallen into companionable conversation. He'd been forthcoming about her relationship with Lexa, and how Costia's actions had caused Clarke to shy away from some of her friendships. Understandable. She couldn't think of any greater betrayal, than having two people she loved, lie and cheat. She would've been better off with Wells as her Patrick Dempsey.
That was all behind her, and she was in a good place. At least she would be, as soon as her memory fully recovered, and no doubt it would, because spending time with Marcus had helped her remember one more thing. A story she'd have to share with Bellamy.
Before Marcus left, she'd had him help lace her athletic shoes. The road in front of Bellamy's house wasn't paved, but since her pace would be slow, it shouldn't make a difference. She stepped outside to the porch and lifted one leg to the railing, then bent to put her nose to her knee. She repeated the stretch on the other side, then filled her lungs with air, and set off.
Other than a couple of squirrels chasing each other, she had the road to herself. She'd been cooped up in a hospital room for so long, the brisk air gave her a heady rush. After the conversation she'd had about her wedding fiasco, she could finally think about it without crying.
He'd told her how Lexa had tried for months to apologize, and how Clarke had ignored her calls, texts, and emails. Apparently, once she eliminated someone from her life, they stayed that way. She liked that about herself. If she couldn't trust someone, she'd rather have no friends.
A catchy little tune popped into her head, and by the time she got back home, she wanted to scratch it down on a note so as not to forget it. Not an easy task with her left hand, but she'd probably be able to get a few words legible enough to remind her. She went to the bedroom to find a notepad. Opening a desk drawer, she rummaged through it with no luck. Moving to the next one, she shuffled papers and pens, and just when she remembered her phone had a recording feature, her hand brushed across something fuzzy.
She clasped the item and pulled it out. A jeweler's box. Heart slamming against her ribs and fingers trembling, she raised the lid. Holy shit. An engagement ring! She staggered to the bed and collapsed onto it.
She had to remember.
Because as soon as she did, Bellamy planned to propose.
Now ya'll prob gonna have this chapter and another cliffhanger when 100 starts tonight. Sorry not sorry ;P Told ya, Bellamy is really in trouble now.