Breathe You - C.R. Jane Page 0,38

as we both continue to stare out at the water. Vibrant fuchsia and violet flowers are all around us, further accenting the whitewashed buildings that cover every inch of this side of the island. Somewhere, a man continues to play a guitar and sing. His mournful, beautiful lyrics only add to the magic of the moment.

“I don’t want to forget this, Valentina,” Logan worries. “There’s so much back home waiting for me. My career. The pressure to stay on my path. I don’t want to forget how I finally feel whole…how I finally feel free. Tell me we can make this feeling last forever.”

His arms tighten around me, as if he’s afraid that I’ll blow away in the breeze. And maybe he’s right to feel that way. Every day I feel a little bit weaker, like my spirit is just waiting to be let go.

I wish his arms could keep me right here.

I don’t wish to go anywhere else.

It’s a desperate, pained wish that would have me wishing on every star, candle, and dandelion, if I thought it would work.

“I’ll love you for all of my life,” I promise him fiercely as we stand on the black cliffs overlooking the sapphire waters. “And hopefully, you can remember that, and it will help you after this is all done.”

“We can always come back,” he comments softly, almost to himself.

My heart squeezes at the thought. When I close my eyes, I can see myself in a white dress here, and a long lace veil that trails along the cobblestone paths behind me as I walk. There would be peonies in my hand. No…maybe wildflowers. That would be better. Something wild and uninhibited, like how they’ve made me feel every second of my life.

In my mind, I walk along that path. There’s a whitewashed faded arch covered in the same flowers I’m carrying up ahead. A short, balding, sunburned priest in black and white is waiting under the arch, but he might as well not be there.

Because all I can see is them.

“Valentina,” Logan says suddenly, bringing me out of my daydream and back to the present. The way he says my name sounds desperate, and I wonder what it is about this wild, beautiful place that has us both feeling this way.

For a second, I’m almost tempted to tell him how scared I am, how I feel like the life I’ve lived has been a waste. I don’t know how to begin to explain to him where I’ve been or where I’m going. And even with his arms around me, I can’t help but feel lonely.

I want to beg him not to forget me. Because there’s no one else on Earth besides the three of them that will really know me. If they keep remembering me, maybe I won’t actually ever be gone.

A tear slides down my face and hits his hand that’s wrapped around my waist.

“Why are you crying? Why do I feel like each step of this journey is actually a goodbye?” he whispers hoarsely.

“Maybe every step we take in life is actually a step towards goodbye,” I answer.

He’s quiet after that.

Maybe instead of begging them not to forget me, I should be begging them not to regret me.

The desperation continues to build inside of me. It’s beating at my head and my heart, telling me to run while I still have a chance.

I should stop this right now. I should set them all free before it’s too late.

“It’s too late,” he responds, and I realize that I’ve said the words out loud.

“It’s too late,” I repeat.

And then we don’t talk after that.

We stand there, wrapped around each other, watching the sea, knowing that there’s nothing we can do to stop what’s coming, even though Logan’s version of what lies ahead is drastically different than mine.

The ending will be tragic, but I decide it will be beautiful too.

All love stories end eventually. And maybe all the great ones are destined to go up in flames, rather than fading away slowly year after year.

Logan makes love to me differently that night. It’s wild and passionate, just like all the times before, but when you both know that every touch you have is numbered, things will always change.

Every touch, every kiss, every sigh…it’s all just more.

“Don’t forget me,” I finally sigh after it’s done. Even though I promised myself the words would never come out of my mouth.

“Never,” he promises.

And I believe him enough to fall asleep, content in the knowledge that