I’m in a board meeting when I see her.
I’m sitting at the head of the table, listening to my father drone on about quarterly projections, when I glance out the window.
And there she is a woman with chestnut hair, walking down the street, holding the hand of a small child.
My heart stops.
I blink, and she’s gone.
Just a trick of the light.
Just my imagination.
But for a moment, for one agonizing moment, I thought it was Lily.
I haven’t thought about Lily in months.
That’s a lie.
I think about her every day.
I think about her every hour.
I think about her every time I close my eyes.
Three years, and I still can’t let her go.
“Alexander?”
I turn.
My father is staring at me, his eyes sharp.
“Are you listening?”
“Of course.”
“What did I just say?”
I don’t know.
I wasn’t listening.
I was thinking about Lily.
I’m always thinking about Lily.
“I said,” my father repeats, “that we need to discuss the Sinclair merger.
Victoria is expecting an answer.”
Victoria.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Victoria Sinclair has been circling me for years, waiting for me to propose, waiting for me to give in.
She doesn’t love me.
She loves my name.
She loves my money.
She loves the idea of being Mrs.
Alexander Albert.
But I don’t love her.
I never have.
I never will.
I’ll never love anyone the way I loved Lily.
“Tell her I’ll consider it,” I say, standing up.
“I have somewhere I need to be.”
My father’s voice follows me out the door.
“Alexander!
Alexander, we’re not finished!”
But I don’t stop.
I can’t stop.
I have to get out of here.
I have to breathe.
I walk for hours.
I don’t know where I’m going.
I just walk.
Past the office.
Past the restaurants.
Past the people who don’t see me, don’t know me, don’t care.
And then I find myself in a garden.
It’s the garden at the estate, the one where I first met Lily.
I haven’t been here in years.
I haven’t let myself come here.
But today, I can’t stay away.
I sit on the bench where we used to sit.
I close my eyes.
And I remember.
I remember the way she laughed.
I remember the way she looked at me.
I remember the way she said, “I love you, Alexander.
I love you more than anything.”
And I remember the way I broke her heart.
Hook: I pull a dried wildflower from my pocket, the one she gave me on our first date.
I’ve kept it all these years.
I don’t know why.
Maybe because I hoped even when I had no right to hope that one day, I’d see her again….