The Stella I Remember

25| Cabin Thunderstorms

"Do you love him?" 

I was sitting up against the headboard of Stella's bed. She was deliciously naked, resting against my chest. 

"No," she answered softly. "No, I don't love him."

The rain was coming down even harder now, beating against the windows as thunder boomed in the sky. I used to hate the rain. I hated everything about it. But being stuck in this cabin with Stella during a thunderstorm was starting to make me feel differently. 

"You agreed to marry him," I pointed out.

I stroked her hair as she drew lazy circles on my leg with her finger.

"Elliot, I told you I was looking for something after my accident. I was looking for who I really was and, I didn't know it at the time, but I was looking for you. I just didn't remember you. My parents were the ones who introduced me to Matthew. They pressured me to date him and, when he proposed and I hesitated, they pressured me to marry him. I thought I loved him, I really did. That's why I said yes. I guess I thought it would finally make me happy."

"Did it?" I asked before I could help it.

"No." She tilted her head back to look up at me. "It didn't make me happy."

I stroked her cheek, my eyes searching hers for the truth. "Do you really remember me?"

God, that would really fucking suck if she didn't. Not that she would be lying outright about it, but...I don't know. 

Stella traced the bridge of my nose with her finger. "I remember how your nose got all scrunched up when I took that funnel cake from your plate." She stroked my lip with her thumb. "I remember the way you smiled at me when I accused you of hitting on me." She pressed her lips softly against mine. "And I remember telling you to kiss me by the lake."

My chest ached at the memories. It all still seemed too good to be true. I may not have had a terrible life, but it was also hard to believe I was this lucky. 

"You sure you didn't get those details from that journal?" I half-teased.

"No," she chuckled. "In the journal it said that I took food from your plate. It didn't say what kind." She frowned before adding, "It's odd. I thought it was just a dream. You know, things my mind was making up. But when I woke up and looked down at you in the bed beside me, I felt it. That's when I knew it was all real."

"Felt what?"

She ran her fingers along my jawline. "Love, Elliot. That's how I knew it wasn't a dream, but a memory."

"Are you trying to say..."

"I love you," she blurted. "All these years...that's what that pain in my chest was. My heart was aching for you." She shook her head and glanced away. "I should have tried harder to figure out who I really was. I should have tried to remember everything."

I didn't miss the guilt in her voice. It was heavy—like a weight that was dragging her down by the shoulders. 

"Hey," I murmured, "look at me." 

She tilted her head up. Tears. Just as I suspected. When one spilled down her cheek I wiped it away. 

"No tears, Stella. You and me? We don't do tears," I said softly, but sternly. "You hear me, baby?" 

She nodded against my hand. 

"I can't hear you." 

She closed her eyes tight before looking back at me. "I hear you. No tears."