Free New Title 2 by K Larsen Page A

it. He simply liked to see her handwriting. To read her thoughts. To hear her voice in his mind. She’d left him the journal for safe keeping while she was away. Said to read it if he wanted. It was their story.
    A love story.
    He flipped to the beginning. Gabriel. The name still left a sour taste on his tongue and a burn in his chest. Soon enough the man would be decimated. His life a sad pile of rubble. He didn’t want to read the hopeless, empty words from the very beginning, so he skipped a couple entries in.
    ~ *** ~
    1994 - JUNE
     
    My mother used to soak in a lavender, eucalyptus and salt bath every night with a too-full glass of chardonnay. She’d sag in the tub and let the aromatic bath salts whisk away her non-existent stress. The scent of lavender now burns my nostrils. The sachets Matteo put in my bureau drawer were meant to be a kind gesture. Soothing. He couldn’t have known that particular scent would irritate me and I hadn’t been able to tell him. It was a week before I could rightfully form a sentence out loud. Each time I spoke it came out a sob. A lump of heartbreak. It came out as agony.
    I can’t do anything about it though. I’m dependent on Matteo for everything. I can’t get up. I’m trapped in this bed. Tubes vining around me—from me. I’m stifled. Restless. Hungry. The blinding pain is nothing compared to the scope of my heartbreak. Gabriel left me for dead. My own husband. It was all a farce—our marriage, our love. Well, for him anyways. For me, I was just the naive woman who didn’t know. The woman who blindly loved her husband. The one who didn’t suspect a damn thing until it was far too late. The television repeats the same sad stories with no updates on the missing woman.
    Me.
    They show a sorrowful looking Gabriel. My parents. ‘Esteemed Biochemist’s Wife Gone Without a Trace.’ ‘No leads in the Celeste Fontaine disappearance; family distraught.’ Yes. He’s a great actor. My parents must be terrified. They should be. They’re stuck grieving with a wolf. A wolf who stabbed me in the back, literally.
    So I’ve taken to writing. Matteo brought me a beautiful leather-bound journal. Endless pages to fill. I sit here and write. In an attempt to make sense of it, to see it clearly, I’m getting it all down. The scratching of my pen on paper like someone murmuring to me from far away. From underwater. The old me, telling a tale. History shared. I’ve decided that it will be cathartic. That it will be my therapy.
    My stitches itch. The scar on my back won’t ever be pretty. Matteo did his best to stich me up—and thank God he did -  but the collapsed lung made his rescue a little more intense. I can’t remember much. Just my face hitting the pavement. The sound of Gabriel’s shoes slapping the ground as he walked away and left me there. Knowing I wanted to scream. Knowing I was supposed to because somewhere Matteo was waiting for me. And knowing I couldn’t. I couldn’t get a damned sound out.
    Matteo.
    That man. He didn’t need me to scream. He was there, waiting. He came. He saved me from death. God those first few weeks were a nightmare. How he managed to move me to safety and save me I will never fully understand. He calls it adrenaline. I call it heroic. His veterinary training was invaluable given the state I was left in. Albeit animals are a different game, he managed to perform surgery on me, and save my life.
    The day before Gabriel came to me under the Eiffel Tower Matteo and I had set up a safe house. Just as a precaution really. We thought we were so clever. I don’t think either of us truly anticipated using it. We surely would have chosen better had we known.
    ~ *** ~
    Matteo thought back to those days. The days before the two of them evolved. He could scarcely believe the situation that had presented itself before them. He’d known Celeste for decades and it nearly brought him to his knees right alongside her when they’d discovered the truth. His