Remember Me?

Chapter Thirty-Five

Numb.

There was no other way to describe it.

Blake Goldstein was numb to every feeling, every emotion, every flicker of hope.

Numb.

It had been 3 weeks, approaching four, but every second without her felt like an eternity.

By now it was approaching Christmas and everyone was in the festive spirit.

Everyone except Blake.

He was now a single man.

There were many opportunities afforded to him to associate with other women, and not just any other women; the elite, the type of women he had shared his bed with the best part of a year ago. But he turned every single one of them down; every lunch, every meeting, every Christmas party, every one.

In fact, he had not departed from his bed for around 2 weeks except to shower when his scent became unbearable.

At night, he could not sleep. His dreams were haunted by her.

Blake, this isn't what it looks like, I swear.

Blake, this isn't what it looks like, I swear.

Blake, this isn't what it looks like, I swear.

He tried so hard to rid his mind, his body of the memory of her, but her clothes were still hanging up in his wardrobe, her vanilla scent still lingered on her side of the bed.

Who was he kidding? There was no way that she would depart from his brain anytime soon.

Not after all they'd been through.

Not after all they'd shared.

He'd wanted to track down Noah Reynolds and kill him, but realised he didn't have the energy.

Besides, it takes two to tango.

All he could picture was the image of them together, Reynolds seeing his woman, naked and vulnerable, her hair spread out on the pillow as she stared up with her mesmerising blue pools. He swallowed down the bile in his throat at the disgust the image evoked in him.

He stared mindlessly at the picture frame, a snapshot of the pair in California. She was wrapped in the satin sheets, messy sex hair and perfect skin and his hair was equally messy as he held the camera at arm's length to take the picture. She was curled up on his chest, smiling and he was looking down at her, his lips pressed to her forehead.

Suddenly, the door creaked open.

Amethyst appeared like an angel in white, her hair at shoulder length, wearing a white shirt and white jeans.

She sighed heavily.

"Come on Blake, you can't do this to yourself anymore."

Caleb came around the corner, also in a white shirt, "Baby bro, get yourself up. You need a shower."

Blake merely blinked

"Blake, please, you can't just lie there!" Amethyst pleaded, "Don't you care about yourself anymore?"

Blake swallowed, moistening his parched throat, "I don't care," he murmured, "I don't care about anything else but her. Without her, I might as well be dead."

Amethyst gasped, "Blake, don't say that!"

Caleb shook his head, "Look Blake, I know you loved Mia and all, but this can't be it."

"Of course it is," Blake said, as if Caleb was stupid, "My world starts and ends with Mia Crawford. Full stop."

Amethyst sighed, "Blake, please, go and see her, you need to sort this out."